


Wild World

by C_H



Series: The Way I'm Feeling [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Patrick Melrose (TV), Patrick Melrose Series - Edward St Aubyn, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Origin Story, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, BAMF Stephen Strange, BAMF Tony, British Stephen Strange, Canon Compliant, Crossover, Doctor Stephen - Freeform, Drama & Romance, Drug Withdrawal, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, Fluff and Humor, Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, I PROMISE HAPPY THINGS HAPPEN, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecure Stephen Strange, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Me? Crying as I write this? More likely than you think, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Minor Stephen/Christine, Origin Story, POV Stephen Strange, Pre-Canon, Protective Stephen Strange, Protective Tony Stark, Recreational Drug Use, Sad, Showing Off, Slow Burn, Story within a Story, Suicide Attempt, These tags are looking bleak but it isn't all doom and gloom, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, based off of a true story, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:51:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 57,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_H/pseuds/C_H
Summary: Stephen battles against emotional trauma ensuing from his childhood, a crippling addiction, and a recovery that takes years to achieve. So long in fact, that it seems impossible. All while fending off the terrible advances of one Tony Stark, who turns out to be the most valuable person in Stephen's life.In this first part of a four part series, we cover just how important it is to simply be a friend. It takes courage to be kind, but being kind can change a person's life for the better. And if you want to be saved, you have to meet in the middle.**Moderately based off a true story.**





	1. 2001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad News - Pre-Iron Man. 2001.
> 
> Stephen Melrose travels to New York to collect the ashes of his father- and faces the challenge of turning his life around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to the first part of a three part series that will be covering all of the current MCU films, the story of Patrick Melrose, and include several, endless pop culture references because I'm a nerd.
> 
> Before you read I want to say that this work is not for the faint of heart- in fact, it's quite brutal in many ways. I was inspired to write it quite some time ago, and I have already written two full chapters. I don't have an update schedule. It depends on how well I can progress. The whole story is already plotted out- as well as the second two parts that will cover all of the MCU movies currently out that involve Tony Stark and Stephen Strange.
> 
> This first story is about Stephen's journey to become a doctor- it's an AU based off of the wonderful TV mini series staring Benedict Cumberbatch: Patrick Melrose. If you have never seen it, I encourage you to. The story is powerful, moving, and eye opening. But it's also incredibly depressing, and deals with scary topics, as will this fic.
> 
> Patrick Melrose is based off of a set of novels- and tells the true story of a man suffering with drug addiction, and how he gets through it. I love his story with all my heart, and cannot express how important a message it has. That's why I'm telling this story, because I want to share this message- this story. Because as scary as it is- I believe it can help. It helped me in many ways.
> 
> As stated in the tags, this fic deals with drug abuse, suicidal attempts- only one, but one is too many, and mentions of child abuse. I, in no means, condone this in any way. In fact it's my goal to put a stop to all three of these terrible things. Children, above all else, should be protected.
> 
> Everybody deserves a chance to be heard, to be loved, to live.
> 
> If you are struggling, I encourage you to seek help, and if you think this fic may hurt you- please don't read it. I don't mean to hurt you, and I want you to be the best that you can be. But if you want to give it a try, feel free, and if you want to speak with me, drop a comment below.
> 
> Thank you for reading this- and I hope you enjoy this series, it will be a journey like no other. 
> 
> If you have any questions, please drop a comment below and let me know. :^)
> 
> A lot of this fic uses direct quotes or dialogue from the Patrick Melrose TV series, as well as the MCU movies. I don't own either.
> 
> EDIT: I totally changed some things around format wise so sorry if it's wonky- also I may have just deleted comments? Which??? I'm so sorry. Tech hates me.

The thing about telephones are- they’re quite loud. Shrill, clangorous, pulsating agony. The painful ringing was earsplitting- and deep down he knew the only way to stop it was to pick it up.

But that resulted in _conversation,_ which at the moment- despite how awful it was- seemed the lesser of two evils. He fought to move, reaching for the phone with great hesitance, slender fingers pulling it off the hook. The moment the ringing stopped, Stephen let out a sigh of relief and drew the phone up to his ear, muttering a quiet and slightly slurred “hello?”

“Helloooo?” Stephen called again after receiving nothing but static in response.

“Stephen, my dear.” A deep, raspy voice echoed through the line- and Stephen’s lips pulled into a tight scowl. “Is that you?”

“George?”

“Stephen, dear, is that you?”

“Yes hello, I’m here.” Stephen called with a bit of impatience. “I can hear you I’m here.”

“Stephen, I’m afraid I have the most awful news for you: your father died the night before last in his hotel room. I’ve been quite unable to get hold of either you or your mother-”

George Watford, a man whom Stephen had known all his life- and hardly got on with. He had been a dear friend of his father, and that usually meant- not so dear a friend to Stephen. He tuned the man out- a little annoyed by the obvious delay. After a long stretch of silence, Stephen’s nose scrunched and forced his mouth open.

“Hello?”

“Stephen are you there?” Came George’s voice almost at the same time. “There appears to be a bit of a delay. Oh- this must come as quite the shock to you. I can’t even begin to say how I feel, I adored your father. I was meant to have lunch with him at the Key Club on the day he died, but of course he never turned up.”

“Oh yes, something like that….” Stephen muttered, eyes drawn to a slender object on the floor beside the dresser the telephone was perched upon- he leaned down- taking care to go slow, one couldn’t rush things of such _importance_. The telephone cord stretched, uncoiling as he twisted around, shaking fingers wrapping around the small cylinder.

“Where is he now?” Stephen asked coldly, lifting the small syringe and setting it carefully on the edge of the dresser.  
  
“At Frank E. MacDonald’s in Madison Avenue: it’s the place everyone uses over here, I believe it’s awfully good.” George explained. “Only the best or go without, as your father used to say.”

“Hum.” Stephen said in response, promising to call once he landed in New York.

“I’m sorry to be the bringer of such bad news,” George went on. “You’re going to need all your courage during this difficult time.”

“Thanks for calling. Yes. Bye bye now.” Stephen said, sliding the phone away from his ear and tossing it haphazardly against the receiver.Stephen sat heavily on a stool set up beside the dresser, head leaning against the wall in a slight daze. He stared up at the ceiling, not in control of his own body as his lips pulled into a bright smile- ripples of laughter escaping from between them.

Was this bad news? He wasn’t so sure. The only courage Stephen really needed involved him dancing through the streets! He rolled down his left sleeve- a spot of blood soaking through the shirt as it flattened against his arm. The sun was blinding- flooding through the small window in his run down apartment.

_It was hideous._

Twenty One years old, and Stephen Melrose hated the sun.

_Strange._

  
His first stop was to see Debby, a young girl he had been unfortunately _romantically_ engaged with since they were young. She was a lovely girl and honestly deserved better than anything Stephen had to offer- but she was also a source of affection that Stephen couldn’t give up. He was selfish- and unable to let go.

Most of their interactions ended in argument, however. When he knocked on her door, proclaiming that the “old bastard had gone and died.” she trapped him in a hug, hands dragging through his hair like he were a kitten-

It was annoying.

Stephen wasn’t a fan of human contact, in fact he often detested it. Being touched was uncomfortable and yet his strong desire for something more- sexual often made his hatred for touch dwindle into a mere shadow of a thought. Thinking of Debby as no more of a form of release was- perhaps a little too cruel, even for Stephen. He did enjoy her company. She was kind, meant well and beautiful in her own way.

But love never crossed his mind.

And he wasn’t sure it ever would.

“How did he die?” Debby asked, fingers combing through his hair as they were both stretched out across her bed, Stephen staring at the ceiling in a quiet sort of contentment- his mind drifting with a sort of calm.

“I forgot to ask, too dizzy with glee.” Stephen said, and paused- “I’m sorry I mean dazed with grief.”

“Mhm…” Debby said softly, her other small hand joining the first in it’s adventures through his dark hair- she seemed enthralled with it, and Stephen felt a pang of self loathing at the thought of the newly forming grey strands he had found at his temples.

“Oh- could you please, stop fiddling with my hair?” He asked, tilting his head away. Her hands paused instantly and he ignored the look of guilt in her eyes.

“I need a drink.” He said with a sigh, pushing himself up off the bed. “A serious drink, let’s celebrate.” Debby said something in response as Stephen waltzed around the room, searching the cabinets for something- anything.

“-oh, and we have been invited to breakfast.” Debby suggested.

“Eating is what takes place while other people are suffering- who said that?” Stephen asked, walking with a bit of skip over to another set of cabinets. “So- sorry, I’m just feeling a bit mad.” He said with the wave of his hands, pulling open the cabinets.

“Well it was a difficult relationship.” Debby said, sitting with her legs crossed on the edge of the bed. “It’s a lot to think about.” Stephen snorted, spinning around.

“Yes, and I’m not so sure the Heroin is helping either.” He said with a bit of snark, pacing across the floor.

“Are you sure that was a good idea?” Debby asked, and Stephen forced out a genuine laugh, pausing in his steps and turning to face Debby with a sneer.

“Of _course_ it wasn’t a good idea!”

“I mean- this perhaps could be a good time to make a change.” Debby said, and Stephen felt the air leave his chest, blue eyes widening at her words. Shaking his head he reached for his jacket- it was time to go. Abort mission, a drink could happen away from this.

“I best be off before you tell me to seize the _fucking_ day.” Stephen said, turning to leave as his arms stubbornly poked through the arm holes.

“Do you think, now that he’s dead- you could be a little less like him?” Debby said in protest as he marched towards the door.

“Unlikely!” Stephen said, fixing his jacket onto his shoulders and reaching for his sunglasses. “I’ll merely have to do the work of two!” He snapped, turned to leave, and paused. The dreadful feeling of guilt pooled in his stomach, preventing him from leaving.

“Debby I’m sorry. I’m not fit for human company.” He said, voice solemn.

She begged him to stay, as she usually did. Tempted him with soft kisses and pleasant touches- but Stephen refused, as he often did. He was already happy- and that happiness would only be tampered by the sappy emotions Debby always seemed to project onto him. No, he had to leave before he formed a desire to seize the fucking day.

  
Stephen pretended to sleep, it was the easiest way to ensure no one sat beside him on the plane- and yet the sound of shuffling forced his eyes to slide open with much reluctance. A briefcase was being slid into the overhead compartment of the airplane, a rather preppy looking man sat down heavily beside Stephen and he had to refrain from sighing.

“Hi, I’m Justin Hammer.” the man said, extending a small- obscenely freckled hand to Stephen. He had blonde hair, wore a suit and had a set of ugly glasses perched on his nose- not to mention the American accent. Stephen scowled- a tourist? Returning home to New York? Disgusting. “I suppose I'm your seating companion!” He said with a smile. Stephen didn’t return the handshake.

“Stephen Melrose,’ said Stephen mechanically, offering his clammy hand when the man didn’t relent- it was unpleasant. As soon as introductions were out of the way- Justin began chattering away and Stephen promptly tuned him out.

Thank god for Heroin- otherwise he’d have to suffer through this _lucid_. Air travel could be quite stressful, it took the edge off.

Once upon a time, Stephen had tried to get clean- in fact he had succeeded before, but always was lured back. His friend, Johnny Hall was quite the same. The two of them spent a good deal of time together, shooting up cocaine and enjoying the pure bliss Heroin provided- neither of them were strong enough to resist.

But- this was the most important event in his life.

He had to get it right.

Which is why- after his conversation with Debby, he had said goodbye, goodbye and goodbye to his old friend. _Heroin._ Aside from that one last pleasure before his flight- air travel didn’t leave him feeling quite well, so it was _logical._

But that was it. The rest of his needles were bent, and the packets flushed- he would return home from New York a new man! He had promised Johnny, who didn’t believe him in the slightest. But- if he didn’t get clean now, how would he ever do it in the future?

At least- he’d get clean of Heroin. Cocaine was another story. He didn’t want to run before he could walk.

“You know, Stephie.” Justin’s voice broke through his clouded bliss, and Stephen looked over at the man- who had yet to stop talking this entire time. Insisting on calling Stephen ‘Stephie’ despite no one having called him that before- well, not everyone. “I’ve made a hell of a lot of money, and I figured it was time to enjoy some of the good things in life.”

“How sensible of you.” Stephen said, tone dry.

“I’ve rented an apartment by the beach in Monte Carlo, and a house in the hills behind Monaco. Just a beautiful house.” Said Justin. “I’ve got an English butler: he tells me what sports jacket to wear- can you believe that? And I’ve got the leisure time to read the Wall Street Journal from cover to cover!”

Stephen shifted uncomfortably- this man was somewhat familiar but not enough for Stephen to really care. All Americans were- less than savory. They also seemed to always be enamored by Europeans- or the British in general.

Made it easy to get stuff from Americans- which was a bonus for Stephen whenever he took a trip to New York.

“A heady freedom.” Said Stephen.

“It’s great. And I’m also reading a real interesting book at the moment called _Mega trends._ And a Chinese classic on the art of war. Are you interested in war at all?”

“Not madly.” Said Stephen, _not at all, really._ Violence was pointless, another thing Stephen disliked about Americans- always looking to produce weapons and have the biggest bomb. _Pointless._

If he hadn’t already wasted his time on drugs- Stephen fancied he’d do something anti-war for a living. Save lives- not take them?

If only he could find a life worth saving.

“I guess I’m biased: I’m into weapons manufacturing- not to boast but I’m a bit surprised you didn’t recognize me. But hey! If you’re not into it then that makes sense, no hard feelings.” Justin said with a long chuckle and Stephen fought from wrinkling his nose.

_Of course._

“You like it?” Stephen asked, gazing out the plane window. They were only a little over a half hour into the flight- hardly any time at all.

“Sure do.” Justin smiled, beginning to go into a rant about different types of weapons- Stephen found himself trying not to listen. He hardly cared, and this flight was already so long- it seemed to extend with his sudden buddy.

“Have you ever been to the Tahiti Club in St. Tropex, Stephie? That’s a hell of a place! I met a couple dancers there.” Justin went on, his voice dropped half an octave to match the tone of male camaraderie- and Stephen held back a groan.

“I’ll tell you, I love to screw. _God_ I love it.” He all but shouted and Stephen rolled his eyes. “But it isn’t just physical- there’s a mental thing you’ve gotta have. Those two dancers? Fantastic. But not enough- and you know why?”

“Didn’t have the mental thing?” Stephen guessed.

“Exactly! No mental thing.” Justin said.

It was about four hours later that Stephen asked the stewardess for another glass of brandy, a Turkish cigarette hung lightly between his lips as he faintly listened to Justin Hammer talking about a variety of different sexual pleasures- god why did men have the need to share such things with each other? Stephen didn’t care, he hated people- hated touching, what was the point?

He was getting restless- beginning to feel a bit jumpy without any Smack. He had taken four Valium from Kay- another girl he spent quite a bit of time with when he wasn’t tending to Debby. She was his choice after the news of his father, he wanted to feel alive unlike his father- prove something.

That’s all physical desire was, proving that one was alive. Although Justin seemed to believe it was a sign of dominance- which Stephen found himself scooting a bit further away in his seat.

He was happy to be flying on Concorde- not only would he be fresh for the ordeal of seeing his father’s corpse before cremation but he’d also be halving his conversation time with Justin. That should be a form of advertisement- _“It’s because we care, not just for your physical comfort, but for your mental health, that we shorten your conversation with people like Justin Hammer.”_

“You see Stephie, I’ve made very considerable - I mean _big_ \- contributions to the Republican Party and to the defense programs- made it with the big shots! Hammer industries is better than any other company- no matter what you see in the news. I’m actually working on something big right now. I shouldn’t be telling you this- but you’re my friend. You know how just a few weeks ago they found that big name Stark out in-”

Stephen took a long drink of the brandy, taking a long sigh as he tuned out the man yet again. He needed Smack, his hands were beginning to sweat beyond belief. Legs unable to rest, fingers flexing.

“-His dad was amazing but I guess he inherited more than just his brain. Asshole.” Justin went on, and Stephen scowled- he hadn’t really followed anything the man had said but glanced over at the man, clearing his throat.

“Justin.” Stephen said, “I don’t think there’s anything more important than being a good dad.”

“Oh.” Justin said, and Stephen wondered if that was even at all relevant to what Justin had been talking about, he couldn’t remember.

Luckily, the flight was coming to an end, meaning Stephen would soon be free of Justin Hammer- who was continuously making comments about how one always meets the best people on flights.

“Goodbye, friend.” Justin shouted at him from across the terminal where they parted ways, waving frantically. “See you around!”

“Every parting,” Stephen snarled under his breath as he waved in return. “Is a little death.”

  
“What’s the purpose of your visit, sir? Business or pleasure?”

“Neither.”

“I’m sorry?” She was a pear-shaped, slug-colored, shorthanded woman wearing big glasses and a dark blue uniform

“I’m here to collect my father’s corpse.” Stephen mumbled.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t catch that,” She replied with what one might call official exasperation.

 _“I’m here, to collect, my father’s corpse,”_ Stephen shouted each word slowly, drawing attention from others.

“Have a nice day.” The woman said, handing him his passport- which he snatched from her hands and quickly began walking away, a spike of rage coursed through him as he walked through customs- unable to keep that slight paranoia out of his mind. What if they stripped him? Saw the bruises scattered across his arm?

So once again- Stephen slumped in the back of a yellow taxi cab, seat repaired several times with black masking tape. The yellow foam still managing to pop out- forming its way to immortality while he himself dieted himself in the opposite direction.

As the taxi bounced it’s way through the streets of New York, Stephen stared out the window- trying his best to actually enjoy the scenery- when in fact it was just a jungle of concrete- no different than London.

_He hated this place._

But he didn’t know which he hated more, New York or London. Both had terrible memories.

Acre after acre of tombstones stretched out beside the freeway, striking Stephen with a sense of envy- how easy life would be if you spent it dead. How dare his father die before him- free at last. As he watched them pass- he thought absently of his favorite lines of poetry, muttering the words under his breath.

“Dead, long dead. Long dead and my heart is a handful of dust and- something. And the wheels go over my head, something something...enough to drive one mad.”

Withdrawal was settling in, and the humming metal of the Williamsburg Bridge awakened him to his surroundings. He was beginning to feel queasy and nervous. Another withdrawal in a foreign hotel room: he knew the routine. Except this one would be the last.

“Or among the last…” He muttered to himself. _‘Think happy thoughts’_ Victor, one of the many voices in his head spoke happily. “Remember why you’re here.” Stephen replied. _‘You’re here to collect your father's corpse.’_

Although, trouble was- Stephen always wanted Smack, like how someone wanted to get out of a wheelchair while the room was on fire. It was near irresistible. And if you thought about it that much? Might as well take it. His right leg twitched unhappily- and rapidly. Stephen crossed his arms, pinching his heavy overcoat together.

 _‘Queasy, nervous, maggots under the skin.’_ Victor spoke softly.

“Fuck off.” He said aloud. “Just _fuck off.”_

Car horns blared in his ears- enough to make his head throb and his stomach leap into his throat. Stephen rubbing his shaking hands together- clasping and unclasping, trying to rid himself of the jitters.

“Look, can you take another route? I really really need to get to my hotel!” He called, to the cabby- who didn’t respond, but did seem to spring into action. Finally

It was late may- hot enough for someone to look like an idiot in a big overcoat like Stephen’s. But the overcoat was his defense against the thin shards of glass that passers-by slipped casually under his skin. It protected his body- which was just an hourglass of passing sand- passing time. No- he wouldn’t take his jacket off, would a lobster take off its shell?

“Hotel,” said the driver. Stephen startled when the car was stopped.

“About fucking time.” He growled under his breath. Yanking the car door open and fishing out a crumpled, tanned envelope that held a stack of twenties. He dropped the folded bills through the cabby window, not really paying attention to how much he was tipping.

_Twenties in his slacks, hundreds in his inner pocket, singles in his jacket pocket._

A grey-coated doorman held out his hand in greeting as a bellboy hurried to grab Stephen’s bags. One welcome and two trips later, Stephen was stalking sweaty through the long corridor which led to the reception.

There he found himself looking into a large mirror- the entire wall was lined with the slightly golden tinted glass. He looked himself over- he was rather overdressed as usual, which was a fine contrast to how extremely ill he appeared. There was a huge, quite disturbing contrast between the beautiful blue button up and grey suit jacket he wore and the large bags under his eyes- his face looked like he was about to fall apart.

He was like a five hundred year old china doll.

The jet black overcoat against his porcelain skin made for quite the spectacle, although- giving his reflection a tight smile, Stephen found he looked better than usual- the silver tie around his neck brought out his unnaturally colored eyes.

His eyes were probably the only part of him he liked- which is why he would never look people in the eye for long- they didn’t deserve to stare for too long. They didn’t deserve to stare into the face of actual beauty.

 _Ahh there it is._ His inner narcissist.

“Mr. Melrose!” The receptionist called as Stephen approached, he tried not to wince at the name. “Good to see you again, your usual suite is ready.” He spoke, turning the sign in book around for Stephen. “And this is a message for you-” He held out a piece of paper, which Stephen snatched from his hands.

A call from his mother- _lovely_ , she didn’t leave him a message. _Even better._

“Always eloquent.” Stephen scoffed, crumpling the note and shoving it in his pocket. “Can you please send up a bottle of whiskey and a very great deal of ice as quickly as possible.” He said, and the man nodded with a smile.

“Of course!” He said as Stephen strolled away, following the guide into the lift.

“This is the lift.” The ancient man said and Stephen refrained from rolling his eyes as he stood in place, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You’re on the thirty third floor.”

 _‘Thirty-three?’_ “Christ, talk about temptation…” Stephen said to himself.

“Pardon, sir?”

“Oh nothing, just talking to myself.”

The doors slid open and Stephen followed the man- although marveled at how quickly they arrived up thirty three floors.

“This is the hallway.” _Obviously_ , Stephen walked slowly behind the man, glaring at the back of his balding head. “Your room is 3318.” He said, each number chipping away a part of Stephen’s sanity. “This is your key.” He said, holding the object up before very _slowly_ putting it in the lock. Stephen watched, his age probably doubled by the time he opened it.

“It works!” Stephen proclaimed, pushing past the man and strolling into the room. _‘Here we go, another withdrawal in another foreign hotel room’_

“This is the light- here’s the TV- this is how you turn it on, change the channels….” The old man explained as Stephen observed the room.

“Yes I have used a television before.” Stephen said, handing the man a twenty. _‘Paranoia, cramps, suicidal thoughts…’_ “Thank you.” He said, offering another twenty and making the man leave.

‘ _At least it’s among the last times.’_ “Or among the last.” Stephen replied. Hadn’t he had this conversation already? _‘Not this time. This time it’s different. No prisoners- concentration like a flamethrower.’_ his inner voice prattled as Stephen poured himself a glass of brandy- downing one and pouring another.

He stalked over to the window, drawing the curtains- _‘New day, new beginning.’_

“The trick is...Not to think about it..” Stephen muttered, gazing adamantly into the horizon.

 _‘How can you not think about it?’_ His mind spoke in desperation. Forcing Stephen to look down at the busy streets of New York- Thirty Three floors- he took a long drink of his brandy, hands shaking. He slammed it down on the window sill, a hand reaching for the lock on the window.

But it didn’t budge.

“Oh god…” He said to himself, resting his head against the cool glass of the window.

_‘For the best Heroin in town, simply call Pierre! 555-1726. That’s Pierre! 555-2716.’_

“The trick is...Not to think about it.” Stephen said to himself.

_‘Patrick!’_

“Yes Nanny?” Stephen asked, back straightening as a new voice entered his foggy mind. He spun around, looking away from the window and taking another long drink of his brandy.

_‘What you need young man is a nice walk in the park.’_

_‘But no Smack.’_

“I want to make that absolutely clear.” Stephen said in the high pitched voice of his old Chemistry teacher, Mr. Muffet. He slipped on his sunglasses, and slipped out of his hotel room- yes. A nice walk in the park was indeed the best option.

“No no, no smack, I swear.”

Fresh air before seeing his father. Nobody could give up everything at once! Especially during such a stressful time. He left the hotel and went to a place where one could find the lowest of quality stuff- desperate times call for desperate measures. Luckily, the men there realized Stephen was a potential customer- maybe it was the jacket.

His battle suit.

“Uppers! Downers! Check it out,” said a tall, bruised looking man- Stephen walked passed.

“What can I do for you, my friend?” A Hispanic man asked and Stephen smiled at the two men standing before him.

“Have you got any Quaalude?”

“Sure, I got some Quaalude. How many you want?”

“How much?”

“Five dollars.”

“I’ll take six. And maybe some speed.” ‘ _Speed? Why the hell are you buying speed? Are you mad?’_

“Yeah I got some black beauties.” The other man said.

 _‘Do not buy speed._ ’ “I’ll take three, impulse buy.”

“You British right?” The shorter of the two asked and Stephen had to hold in a scoff- what gave it away?

“Yes.” He answered dryly as they exchanged.

“You should take your jacket off man, you’re sweating like crazy.”

“I hear you get free Heroin over there!” The same man exclaimed.

“Ay leave the man alone-” The other spoke as Stephen said “It’s not exactly free…”

“I got some Cocaine-”

“I said leave the man alone.”

“I don’t doubt it, but I’ve given that up.” Stephen said, popping the first Quaalude into his mouth and beginning to leave.

“Ay you need some water!”

“Please.” Stephen scoffed, strolling passed the man and slipping his sunglasses back on. “I’m not an amateur!”

_An amateur he was not, but an idiot? Perhaps._

“I’ve come to see my father’s-” A grotesque cough left him as the pill lodged itself in the back of his throat- the woman at the desk of Frank E. MacDonald’s. “Could-” A wheeze. “Could i get some water? I have a rather-” He tried to clear his throat. “A rather large pill stuck in my-” He coughed a few more times as the woman slowly grabbed him a glass.

“Not enough saliva-” ‘He wheezed, taking the glass and downing the entire thing. It took some maneuvering, but the pill eventually slipped out of its place, and slid down his throat. Breathing was suddenly significantly easier.

“Thank you.” He said, straightening. “Now, I’ve come to see the corpse of Eugene Melrose.” He said, and the woman- now a little concerned with him- typed something on her computer, stood, and lead him to the elevator. Stephen followed wordlessly.

They only went up a single floor, and Stephen was a little surprised at how easy this was- she hardly glanced at her computer screen. Perhaps Frank E. McDonald’s was the best.

“You’ll find Mr. Melrose at the end of corridor.” She explained when the elevator doors slid open, and Stephen nodded. Stepping out of the elevator- it slid closed behind him, taking the woman with it.

Stephen stood just outside the doors for a few moments. Drawing in his bottom lip to chew lightly on the already raw skin. A new wave of sweat coating his forehead. He really should consider losing the jacket but-

It was his armor.

Slowly, he began walking down the hall, taking deep breaths as he forced thoughts of his father away- he was dead. No need to worry.

He couldn’t move-

He was dead.

The jacket would protect him.

His armor.

Every time Stephen blinked, his head spun- the hallway before him seemed to twist into a more familiar hall- one he walked often as a child.

 _This was it._ The time had come- to say everything that he never said. The truth was liberating? Wasn’t it? He could do it, as long as he had his jacket.

 _“Patrick!_ ” A shout rang in his head- one sounding quite like his father. Stephen flinched as he walked, steps stuttering. _“Come here, right now!”_ He let out a heavy breath of air- not realizing he had been holding it.

When he reached the door, Stephen pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, pressing the cloth against his forehead and the back of his neck before reaching for the door and pushing it open as quickly as he could- half expecting the man himself to jump out from the shadows.

What greeted Stephen, however, was a cheerful strum of music, and a group of very lively- happy looking people bustling about the small room. Stephen’s eyes widened comically so as he looked at the scene before him.Was this a- party?

He stepped inside the room, eyes scanning the many faces he didn’t recognize before he saw the man that was laying in the casket- this man was not familiar, short, snow white hair and much to kind looking.

“Oh- how did you know Herman?” An old woman in a green dress asked him- she was perched beside the man, a wide smile on her lips. Stephen looked between her and the dead man in the casket, eyes widening even further.

“I can’t _fucking_ believe it!” He shouted, the old woman looked mortified but he paid her no mind and stormed out of the room and back to reception. When he burst through the doors to the main hall, stomping across the floor, the woman looked quite afraid.

“Wrong _fucking_ corpse!” He shouted.

“O-oh?” She said, standing up when he reached the counter. “But that’s the only party going on-”

“I don’t want to go to a party I want to see Eugene. Melrose!” Stephen snapped.

“I’m so sorry-” The woman began to prattle as she searched her computer. Stephen was fuming- he stood there, arms crossed- this was absolutely unbelievable. How dare he be taken to the wrong corpse- had this ever happened before? What the fuck was going on? Was his father’s remains that difficult to fine? He had no trouble finding them in himself!

As he internally raged, the manager seemed to appear out of nowhere, talking down the woman as well as speaking to Stephen- who wasn’t really listening. He only followed when told to. Expecting much better service this time.

“Mr. Melrose is this way, I’m terribly sorry sir-”

“It’s fine. Do tell the- girl at the desk that I’m sorry.” Stephen said, stepping off the elevator for the second time.

“No sir, you had every right to be upset!” The man said, taking Stephen down the hall and stopped in front of a door to the left. “You’ll find that this is the right room.” He said, and stepped away from Stephen. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

Stephen watched him go, and turned back to the door. He stared at it with mild distrust- reaching a shaking hand out to the cold metal knob. “Come on…” He whispered to himself, pushing the door open.

Inside, Stephen glared at the poorly carpeted room. It was small, round- and in the center was a coffin just big enough for his father. The contents was covered in a thin sheet of paper- and Stephen couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

“Is- is it dad?” He asked, stepping closer, looking behind him to his imaginary friend. He reached for the paper, pulled it back and let out a fake gasp. “It is! Oh you shouldn’t have!”

His fake smile dropped, and Stephen looked down at his father- unpleasant memories came flooding back to him- he swallowed thickly, opening and closing his mouth.

_Now was his chance- say something Stephen._

“What are you doing in a coffin, dad?” Stephen breathed out- squinting down at the man- “You certainly look your best.” He muttered. “Were you scared? Christ I hope so….” He said, observing the small gash on his father’s lip- he knew he was going to die. He was probably stubborn- fought it with everything he had.

Stephen wanted to grab that lip, and rip the gash like a piece of paper-

 _No._ He wouldn’t have that thought. That was obscene, not that, he would not do that- nobody should do that to anybody else. He could not be that person. Bastard.

“Dad.” He began in the most annoying American accent he could muster, “you were so fucking sad, man, and now you’re trying to make me sad too.” He choked out insincerely. “Well,” He added, voice falling flat. “Bad luck.”

Perched on a small chair overlooking the balcony of the Hotel, Stephen sat with his eyes squeezed shut- forcing back memories with the sweet taste of a martini and the burning smoke of a cigarette. He was tired- god he was tired. Yet he was scheduled for a lunch date he hoped would last for only a short period of time.

Although when Anne got talking- she never could stop.

“Vincent!” A soft voice called out just as Stephen slipped another Quaalude into his mouth, slurping against the rather full glass of alcohol, some went up his nose as he pulled back- coughing slightly. ‘That looked fun.” Anne said as she came over, wearing a very shocking shade of red.

“Oh yes- antibiotics.” He laughed, standing up and offering the woman a hug.

“I’m so sorry.” She said with a sigh, leaning into the hug.

“Oh no- so am I! Punctuality is yet another thing I’ve inherited from my father.” Stephen said with a laugh as they both took their seats.

“Now, you know that’s not what I meant.” Anne said with a laugh of her own- flagging down a waiter. “Tea please, earl grey.”

“Ah- and another of these!” Stephen said, gesturing to his martini. “For me it’s nine o’clock.”

“For you it’s always nine o’clock.” Anne joked, “Ah what the hell, a martini for me as well!” She called. “Have you been to the- you know.”

“The mortuary? Yes!” Stephen slurred. “The best I’ve ever seen him.”

“I don’t want to delusion you but when they give you the ashes- it’s mostly leftover from other people.” Anne went on.

“That’s good news! Ideally they’d all belong to someone else.” Stephen said with a smile. “When I was young, he used to take us to restaurants- and I say that in the plural form because we never stayed in one. I remember one time- someone brought him a bottle of wine and he turned it over- dumping the contents on the carpet- _‘How dare you bring me this filth!’”_

“Well, at least he’s somewhere where he can’t complain.” Anne said with a laugh and Stephen shook his head.

“I half expected him to pop up out of the coffin! Complain about the service.” He joked, earning another laugh from the woman- Anne was always kind. One of the few people Stephen could bare the company of. “Mind you, the service was intolerable- they sent me to the wrong corpse!”

“The wrong corpse?” Anne asked, a bit bewildered.

“Yes- funny my father’s remains are so hard to find when I have no trouble discovering them in myself…” He trailed off, taking a drink. Anne went silent- and Stephen set down the glass, offering a small smile. “It’s good to see you Anne. It’s good to see a friendly face…” He said- head growing foggy. His vision faded and the last syllable of his sentence slurred

_‘Here comes the Quaalude's.’_

He hadn't realized he was leaning so far to the side until a warm hand rested against his arm.

“Jet lag!” He exclaimed, sitting upright. “Kicking in.”

“Do you want to go lay down?”

“No no don’t be silly…..” He said, pausing. “Excuse me.” Anne only nodded as Stephen rose to his feet- wobbling slowly across the floor until he rounded the corner- he fell down to his knees and crawled slowly across the floor as his legs seemed to turn to jelly.

_‘Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.’_

Luckily the bathroom wasn’t far- he got back to his feet at some point, earning a few concerned looks from other residents of the Hotel as he dragged his feet across the floor to the private bathroom. He pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind him, hands rummaging around in his pockets until he found a small black pill- filled with Speed.

“Oh bathrooms! How I love you, your cabinets old my medicine and thy towels wipe up my rivers of blood.” Stephen preached as he worked swiftly.

He dumped the contents of the pill onto the counter, shaking hands forming a smile line. Quickly, Stephen pulled a few dollar bills from his pockets, rolled it into a tight tube and sniffed up the powder- his nose burned and his eyes watered.

 _“Fuck.”_ he swore to himself, head shaking rapidly as if to shake away the burning. Instantly Stephen felt better, and yes, he had taken all of it- his father had just died! He deserved to not be lucid. Besides- the only proof of his heroic deeds was that he hadn’t taken any Heroin yet. Yes, he was a champion.

He leaned forward to check his pupils- they were very dilated, and sweat was beginning to pour out of him- shirt sticking to his chest. How long had he been in the bathroom? Probably to long, he splashed his face with water- not bothering to dry it considering he was already soaked.

The final touch- he reached over and flushed the toilet with a smile of glee.

“That’ll fool em!” He said, and marched out of the bathroom and back to Anne. One look at him and she balked at him eyes wide.

“What happened to you?” She asked.

“I uh- splashed some water on my face. Much better now.” Stephen said with a smile. She simply rolled her eyes- Stephen always figured Anne knew about his drug addiction, she just never said anything about it.

“Vincent...” She said, voice changing. Stephen frowned- her tone was soft, this meant danger. “I’m so sorry, about all those years ago- when I found you on the stairs. I should have come back.” She said, and Stephen’s heart dropped.

 _‘ Oh no not this- retreat, eject! Abort abort!’_ The voice in his head shouted and Stephen smiled, shaking his head at her.

“Oh I promise you, I’ve forgotten all about it. Where is our waiter?” Stephen asked, foot lightly tapping against the floor as he glanced around frantically.

“You were in distress. You always did- your and your mother. I should have done more!” Anne said, and Stephen took one last drink of his martini, stood and reached over for Anne. Flashes of him as a young kid sitting alone on the stairs raced through his mind, he squeezed his eyes shut, recalling the face of his mother, Anne- Donna. Stephen forced his eyes open, head shaking.

“No no- sorry. I really must be going now.”

“Really? But you only just got here-”

“I have an appointment- very busy you know! Goodbye-” Stephen paused, leaning down to hug her. “You have always been- so kind to me. I love you very much.” He muttered in her ear, and quickly scurried out of the building, leaving a heap of memories behind him.

  
How could he think his way out of the problem when the problem was the way he thought, Stephen wondered, not for the first time, as he slipped reluctantly out of his overcoat and handed it to a red-jacketed waiter.

The restaurant he had chosen was beyond elegant- Stephen waltzed inside with a wide smile on his lips- he felt good. Speed was a good choice. Eating was the only thing that could really help him now however- he wanted to get away from all the reminders of his father.

Sitting down in a booth on his own, Stephen accepted a leather bound menu from the waiter who tried his best to look happy.

“I’ll have some salmon tartar followed by some steak tartar- tartar tartar!” Stephen said, enjoying the feeling of saying tartar twice in a row. “Spicy, very spicy- and your wine list please.”

_‘That’s it darling! Get something solid in you’_

“Do be quiet Nanny.” Stephen said with a long suffering sigh.

“Will- anyone be joining you?” The waiter paused- looking confused at Stephen.

“Fucking _hell_ I hope not!” Stephen said with a laugh. He took his napkin and dropped it over his legs. As a waiter brought over a bottle of wine he had quickly chosen from the menu. Stephen eyed it as the white, clear contents was poured into his glass.

“Only the best or go without…” He said to the waiter in a voice much like his fathers. He snatched the glass as soon as it was filled to have a taste- nodding in approval. “Yes yes, that’s very good thank you.” He said, taking the bottle from the man.

 _‘Mmh, you see that still works. Everything is under control!_ ’ Victor said happily in Stephen’s head. _‘But it’s not Heroin.’_

“Shh.” Stephen snapped just as a waiter came to give him his first plate of tartar. Stephen simply smiled at him and gave a thank you.

 _‘Most people withdrawing from heroin, high on speed and Quaalude's, riddled with jet lag might balk at the idea of food. But not I!_ ’ Victor prattled as Stephen finished both tartar.. _‘I eat not from greed, but from passion!’_

“Do shut up will you?!” Stephen snapped, not realizing the waiter had returned. “Oh no- not you, someone else.” Stephen said to him with a wide smile.

“Would, sir care for a dessert?” The man asked, a little uneasy. Stephen simply laughed at him.

“Care for it? Tell me, how does one care for a dessert? Feed it? Visit it on Sundays?” He said with a wide grin, but the waiter looked pained. Stephen’s smile dropped and he shook his head. “I’ll have a Creme Brulee.”

 _‘But it’s still not Heroin is it? Heroin is the Calvary! The missing chair leg- heroin is love! Simply call, 555-1726!_ ’

“Shut up!” Stephen shouted quite loudly- hands waving in the air. Several people paused- looking at him. He paid them no mind, slamming his hands down on the table and fumbling for his drink, downing the rest of the wine. The waiter returned with a plate- looking very concerned.

“Is- everything okay sir?”

“You keep asking that- but, how can everything be okay? It’s simply too much to hope for.” Stephen laughed.

“Because, there have been some complaints….” The waiter explained and Stephen looked at him with wide eyes.

“You mean- the voices just aren’t in my head? Fuck.” He said, glancing around to notice yes, people were looking uncomfortable. “Uhm- perhaps I should get the uhm-”

“That’s been taken care of already.” The waiter said, and Stephen looked up at him- a bit bewildered. Taken care of?

“Excuse me?” He asked, eyebrows raised. The waiter nodded a bit happily.

“Someone took care of it for you.” He explained and Stephen’s eyes narrowed, he crossed his arms and glanced around the room- no one was looking this way. Who was it?

“Who?” He asked a little louder than necessary.

“Uhm…” The waiter glanced behind him and Stephen followed his gaze. “The gentlemen in that party of three-” He explained and Stephen tuned him out, glaring at the said table where two men and a woman sat- his interest was _slightly_ peaked considering two of the three were quite pretty.

The girl had a head of strawberry blonde hair and a kind smile. She was- generic really. But pretty enough for Stephen to have some sort of interest. Prettier than Debby- his mind supplied, and Stephen shook his head at his own behavior.

The brunet was a different story entirely- he was well dressed, perhaps five years older than Stephen himself. Something about him was familiar, but from this distance Stephen couldn’t be sure. From this distance- he looked interesting.

But Stephen felt the slightest hint of annoyance when it was the third- bald old man that turned to look at Stephen. He scowled at the man, making it a point to fish out his envelope of larger bills and pull out several twenties, laying them on the table without breaking eye contact with the man- who looked less than amused. His company however- was giggling quite openly, which made Stephen flash the group a bright smile before standing and marching towards the door, one of the hosts gave him his jacket.

“I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a quarter for the telephone?” Stephen asked the host, who reluctantly handed one over.

“Here’s the deal.” Stephen said as he wobbled over to the telephone- several people still watching him. _‘If he answers, score just enough Smack to sleep, if he doesn’t? No smack at all!’_

“Leave it to fate.” Stephen said, dropping the quarter into the phone- struggling to press the buttons. He muttered the number under his breath as he did. “Good idea.”

The phone rang and Stephen groaned to himself as a shiver ran through him- people passing gave him looks and he could still faintly hear the sound of laughter from his generous party. Why was it always old men who wanted him? Stephen’s stomach turned at the thought.

 _‘It’s just your curse, Patrick.`_ ` Victor said happily. _‘Our curse.’_

“Hello, this is Pierre, I cannot come to the phone right now…..” Pierre’s voice spoke through the telephone and Stephen felt a pinch of rage.

“Oh….fuck-” He pulled the phone back and slammed it against the receiver a few times- as if it had physically hurt him or stole his lunch money. “Fuck fuck fuck fate fuck!”

Running outside, Stephen hailed a taxi and quickly climbed in. Sweat beginning to overtake his entire body. He shivered uncontrollably as he sat down against the worn leather. The driver asked him where too- and Stephen gave the first address he thought of. _He could go without Pierre- he just needed help sleeping was all._

The cabby was not pleased by his request- he could tell.

“What do you want to go here for?” He asked a bit worriedly.

“I want to score.” Stephen said honestly. “Now drive.” He snapped, leaning back in his seat, taking deep breaths. Although with each breath he only felt like he was suffocating even more.

Minutes passed, and eventually the car stopped, drawing Stephen out of his haze.

“We’re here man- this is a scary looking place.” The cabby said.

“That’s what I’m hoping for.” Stephen said with a scoff, climbing out of the cab. “Just uhm- wait for me, okay?” He said, and the Cabby shook his head.

“No way, I don’t want to die.” He answered and promptly drove away- Stephen scowled at the retreating car, but continued on anyway. He walked down the wet- dark streets of New York until a rather grotesque looking man approached him with a smirk.

“What do you want?” The man asked, and Stephen eyed him up and down. Stephen could smell the stench this man radiated on the evening breeze.

“I want smack.” He replied, and the man scoffed at him.

“Shit- you’re a policeman?” He said and Stephen frowned.

“No I’m not, I’m an Englishman don’t be daft.” He snapped. “Can you take me to Loretta's?” Stephen asked.

“Sure I can!” The man said, “this way.” He nodded, and started walking quite slowly. Stephen followed a bit hesitantly- which the man seemed to notice. “You want it dontcha?” Stephen nodded slowly and followed.

There was a beat of silence, Stephen felt a sense of dread as he walked. A faint cry from behind had him frozen in place, eyes wide.

“Don’t stick him!”

Stephen stumbled back from the man, eyes wide as he looked behind him at the quickly approaching figure- who was very familiar.

“Don’t stick him!” He said again, coming right up to Stephen.

“Chilly!” Stephen said, greeting his old friend who was now standing between him and the strange man.

“I didn’t know you knew Chilly.” The man said, and Stephen looked at him a bit bewildered.

“Were you really going to stab me?” He asked.

“Hell yeah I was.” The man said, pulling out a small knife from his pocket. Stephen nodded slowly, mouth slightly open. “Names Mark.” The man said, offering a hand to Stephen, who reluctantly shook.

“Well...Thank you, Mark, for not- stabbing me.” Stephen said and the man laughed. Chilly lead him away- and off to Loretta’s they went after a bit of confusion on Chilly’s end. The man was thin- and obviously ill. He was a lot like Stephen in drug preferences- but a lot worse off financially.

Chilly was a good friend however- had been since Stephen first got involved in this trade. Good friends were a necessity if one wanted to survive- Mark was Stephen’s case and point.

Chilly took Stephen to Loretta's- a place Stephen knew had perhaps the lowest quality of heroin around. But he was growing desperate at this point. He bought five bags, three for himself and two for Chilly- compensation. Chilly took him back to his home where Mrs. Chilly provided him with a syringe- although Stephen would call it more of a bicycle pump than a syringe.

He closed himself in the small bathroom, hands shaking as he tried to flush the syringe out- the single bulb flickered on and off as he worked. He held the syringe in his mouth as he tied his tie around his upper arm and smacked his arm- trying to get a vain to pop.

All this however- ended in disaster. Upon insertion, when Stephen pushed down on the plunger, the needle missed the vein and had him groaning in pain and quickly pulling the bicycle pump out of his arm.

“Fuck- fuck fuck!” He shouted, feet stamping the ground. He quickly undid the tie and stormed out of the bathroom.

“Chilly- you should really invest in a new light! I missed the vein!” He snapped, showing his still bleeding arm to his friend, who simply laughed and clicked on a flashlight.

“You should have used this-” The man said with a drawl- and slowly slipped out of consciousness. Stephen growled to himself and left Mr. and Mrs. Chilly. The Smack couldn’t even really be called smack- what was the point!

 _‘Only the best or go without.’_ Victor chimed in his head, and Stephen nodded. Running for the nearest phone booth.

“I’ll call Pierre again-” _‘Please pick up!’_

“Hello?” Pierre picked up on the third ring. Stephen’s mouth pulled into the biggest smile as he heard the familiar- tired voice.

“Pierre!” Stephen cheered.

“Who is this?”

“Stephen Melrose- I’m having trouble sleeping.” He said.

“Twenty minutes.” Pierre said, and the line went dead. Stephen froze before slamming the phone down and sprinting down the street towards the one place he knew he’d find the best smack in all of New York.

_‘Are you sure this is a good idea?’_

“No Donna.” Stephen said to himself as he ran down the street, winded despite only having run a few blocks. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

_‘Now Patrick, I want you to listen to the silence. Become part of the silence. Can you hear it?’_

“Y-yes I hear it.” Stephen mumbled quietly to himself from where he was sprawled out on his hotel bed- arms crossed above his head like he were sunbathing.

 _‘Good. Now- I want you to visualize, a Pagoda. Can you see it?’_ Stephen nodded, _‘Beautiful isn’t it?’_

“Oh yes yes, Victor it’s beautiful.” Stephen smiled happily as he sat up, eyes still shut- he focused on nothing but the Pagoda.

 _‘Now, I want you to step into it, Patrick.’_ Stephen spoke in Victor’s low, demanding voice that forced him to stand against his will- the Heroin wasn’t helping either.

“I-Is there something in there?” Stephen asked, voice trembling.

 _‘Yes, Patrick. Our mom, and dad._ ’ Victor said in a low whisper, causing a chill to tickle it’s way down Stephen’s spine.

“M-mom? And Dad?” Stephen spat the words out as if they were causing him harm. He took a few steps back- not wanting to enter the Pagoda.

 _‘Yes, I want you to go up to our mother, and I want you to say to her- ‘I love you mummy!’_ Victor forced Stephen forward, arms outstretched as if going for the hug. But before they could really ensnare his imaginary mother, they dropped, giving Stephen full control.

“M-mom. I really love you….” Stephen forced out, unsure what to do with himself.

 _‘Yes good.’_ Victor nodded. ‘ _Now embrace her.’_ Stephen did. Arms wrapping around himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and he swore he could smell the faint lilac perfume his mother so adored- he let out a shuddering breath, lips quivering.

 _‘Feels good doesn’t it?’_ Victor asked.

“Yes. It feels so good.” Stephen said, voice cracking.

 _‘Now.’_ Victor said in a more stern voice, Stephen’s arms dropped and the memory of his mother vanished. _‘I want you to go up to your father.’_ Fear consumed him. _‘And say ‘You on the other hand- I cannot forgive.’”_

“You on the other hand, I cannot forgive!” Stephen all but shouted, hands on his hips in stern defiance.

_‘Good! Now take a revolver and shoot his fucking brains out! Bang bang bang bang!_

“Bang bang bang bang!” Stephen shouted with Victor, but froze in the middle of a particularly aggressive shot, hands running through his hair. “No no- fuck off!” He said, pacing about the room.

 _‘You always were a Strange boy.’_ Nanny’s voice said softly in his head- Stephen stood up straight and smiled. He began to strut about the room in a manner similar to her own. ‘ _Oh the stories I could tell you! The aristocracy and their filthy ways!’_

“What stories, Nanny?”

 _‘Oh I mustn't say._ ’ She said with a snap, and Stephen took a step back, shock etched into his features. He spun around and suddenly a new- unfamiliar voice popped into his head. It was the bald man from the restaurant.

 _‘I feel compelled to speak sir, indeed I do.’_ He began, voice deeper than Stephen would have thought- ‘ _My story is a simple one, of a man who loved not wisely but too well.’_

“Oh, too well? Love and cruelty do not go hand in hand.” Stephen responded with a cold snap. The man wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

 _‘I loved not from greed, but from passion! Couched in the ruins of this old body are abilities far beyond one's comprehension. I’ve consumed more human flesh than anyone could dream of.’_ The man bragged and Stephen scoffed at him, taking a seat on the couch and crossing his legs in defense.

“Oh, shut up!”

 _‘Human flesh?’_ Nanny gawked. _‘Human flesh indeed! Whatever next?’_

 _‘Hello, my name is Gary!’_ A new voice spoke and Stephen froze. _‘I’ll be your waiter tonight.’_ Gary? That didn’t fit the face. It was the blonde woman, cute from where Stephen had sat. _‘Today’s specials include a Dish of Human Flesh, and a sodium-free Frisson of Colombian Cocaine nestling on a bed of “wild baby” Chinese White Heroin.’_ She said in a high pitched voice full of wit and Stephen smiled.

 _‘Oh, Patrick.’_ The third voice- the brunet this time. Stephen’s head shot up, hands dragging through his hair in uncertainty. _‘You’re just too funny._ ’ The man said in a giggle and Stephen allowed a bashful smile to spread across his lips.

“Thank you.” He said, hiding his smile behind a hand. That is- until all the voices began to speak at once, Stephen’s smile dropped and he stood back up, running back towards the bed as they began to argue-

“Please, please make it stop!” He shouted, only to be mocked in return.

 _‘Please make it stop!’_ They all shouted in unison as he flopped backwards onto the bed, suddenly- they all silenced. And Stephen took a deep breath.

_‘Stephen?’_

“Donna?” Stephen asked, sitting up, his stomach turned uneasily as the room began to darken- or was that just his eyesight failing him? “Are you there?” He asked.

 _‘Yes.’_ She said softly, and a lazy smile spread across Stephen’s lips. Of course it was Donna- no one else called him Stephen.

“I love you, Donna.” He said happily.

 _‘I love you too.’_ She said quietly. _‘You can rest now.’_

“I can?” Stephen asked, “Thank you.”

 _‘You can hide.’_ She said, and Stephen stood up on shaking legs. He wobbled away from the bed- he could still hear the faint arguing from the other voices. Victor’s the loudest of them all. ‘ _Under the couch. You can rest there.’_

“No one will find me?” Stephen asked as he dropped carefully to the floor, shuffling underneath the couch.

_‘No. No one will find you here.’_

“Good.” Stephen said- and then he paused, blinking away the sudden wave of tears that tried to consume his vision.

“Donna?” He called carefully, but no response came.

_“What if nobody finds me here?”_

When Stephen woke up the next morning, he was sprawled out on the floor of his hotel room in nothing but his boxers. A needle was still wedged in his arm- and the phone was ringing, the sound made his stomach turn and his head spin. He reached for the phone- groaning as the needle in his arm was jostled. He picked up the phone.

“Patrick…?” A soft voice seemed to call to him- but not from the phone. Stephen smiled rolling onto his back- barely holding the phone to his ear.

“Donna…?” He asked softly.

“Stephen? Oh, did I wake you? You sound so tired. I’m sorry!” Debby’s voice broke him from his haze, and Stephen scowled at the ceiling.

“Debby?” He asked, placing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he slowly reached for the needle in his arm, pulling it out.

“Oh Stephen, I tried to call you several times last night but you didn’t pick up. How are you?” She asked and Stephen shook his head, rolling his eyes.

“I was….Asleep.” Stephen answered. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to see how you were- did you see him?”

“Yes.” Stephen answered, sitting up and glancing around the room- his memory from the night before was foggy, but his room was absolutely trashed. Clothes everywhere- several glasses and bottles were strewn about. Packets of heroin lay across the glass table- the contents smeared across the once beautiful glass The sight had him smiling slightly.

“I’ve been worrying about you all night long…” Debby explained as Stephen tried to recall the events of last night.

 _‘You always were a strange boy.’_ Nanny said to him and Stephen shook his head. That was always her favorite phrase.

“Ridiculous.” Stephen sighed. “Sleeping was the least of my problems.”

“It isn’t ridiculous to worry.” Debby said. “I didn’t know that.”

“No need to be defensive.” Stephen scowled- not that she could see it.

“I’m not being defensive- oh darling, let’s not argue.” She said with a sigh, “I wanted to tell you that I have a friend there who would love to see you again-”

“Not interested.” Stephen said- socializing was not a priority now.

“But- you remember Christine don’t you?” Debby asked.

_Oh._

“Christine….” Stephen repeated the name. Yes indeed he did- Christine was a beauty. A breath of fresh air. If Stephen had a woman like Christine, he’d be forever changed. Consider his interest peaked.

“Her and her family would love to have you for dinner tonight- you know the address right?” Debby asked, and Stephen nodded- then paused. She couldn’t see him.

“Yes.” He said instead. “I remember.”

“Wonderful!” She said. “And Stephen- please remember that I do love-” Stephen hung up, tossing the phone to the side he looked around the hotel room with a scowl. Later he had to meet George and his gaggle of friends at the Key Club- he sighed. Pulling himself up off the floor with great effort. One of his eyes hurt quite badly- he drug himself to the bathroom only to see it swollen shut.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He muttered, poking and prodding at his eyelid. Wonderful.

Stephen checked the time- he still had quite some time before he had to leave. Which meant this was a perfect opportunity for a bath. His lips pulled into a smile as he wobbled over to the light blue tub, turning on the faucet- probably a little hotter than it should be set to. He wandered out to the living room and grabbed the TV- dragging it over to set on the edge of the tub as it played that one song about the Radio Star.

He hummed along happily as he got a bottle of brandy and glass- but swore lightly when there was no ice to be found. He wandered out of his room in nothing but his underwear and a robe, shouting at the first maid he saw that he needed ice. _Asap._

They seemed annoyed- but complied.

When he returned to his room, Stephen froze at the sight of water pooling out of the bathroom. “Fuck fuck!” He swore as he ran over, stepping carefully over the TV cord and sliding to a stop by the overflowing tub- after a few seconds of contemplation, he plunged his arm into the hot water- arm burning as he pulled the plug.

“Fuck!” He swore again, yanking his arm out as soon as the plug was undone- his entire arm was a deep red. A small whimper left him as he grabbed his new bag of ice- only to take it with him to sit heavily on the toilet and nurse his arm.

“These aren’t my arms….” He said quietly to himself, squeezing his eyes shut- he forced down the tears pooling in his eyes and tried to forget.

_‘If you tell your mother, or anyone else- about today. I will snap you in two.’_

“I won’t….” Stephen said quietly to himself, drawing his legs up to make himself as small as he could.

“I won’t tell anyone. Please go away. Leave me alone.”

  
  
“Stephen!” George Watford greeted Stephen with a wide smile when he arrived at the Key Club later that day- a black eye patch covering the swollen eye and a happy smile on his face as he greeted his old friend.

Well- sort of friend.

“George, how great to see you.” Stephen replied, accepting the eager hug from the man.

“Is there something wrong with your eye?” George asked, voice dripping with concern. Stephen simply shook his head with a laugh.

“Just a little inflammation!” He answered.

“Oh dear, well I hope it clears up.” George said in full sincerity. “Do you know Obadiah Stane?” He asked, turning to gesture towards the small group of men gathered around a table in the middle of the large room. Stephen squinted and saw quite the familiar face. His heart dropped at the sight.

“Not at all.” Stephen answered as they approached. The bald man- apparently Obadiah, looked up at Stephen and a smile spread across his lips- a mocking smile. He rose and stuck a hand out towards Stephen.

“Hello, Patrick.” He greeted and Stephen scowled at him, eyes narrowed. Rather than accept the hand, Stephen sat himself down in one of the empty chairs between George and Nicholas.

“It’s Stephen, actually.” He said with a trace of a sneer.

“I see.” Stane replied, sitting down across from Stephen with a faint smirk. Stephen hated it. “I’m sorry about your father. I never knew him personally but from what George here has told me- he sounded like a great man.”

“George! What have you been telling him?” Stephen asked with a wide grin.

“Just what an exceptional man your father was.” George answered.

“Oh yes. I never knew anyone quite like him.” Stephen answered sarcastically.

“He refused to compromise! Nothing but the best or go without.” George said with a snap of his fingers.

“I quite agree.” Obadiah said, and Stephen leveled him with a stare.

“Never apologize, that was another one.” Stephen began. “Never explain.” George spoke his agreement. “Save everything, trust no one.”

“All very wise.” Stane nodded, never breaking eye contact with Stephen.

“Never try, effort is vulgar. Things were better in the eighteenth century. Oh and!” Stephen said with a laugh. “Despise all woman, but your mother most of all!”

They all went quiet. Good.

 _‘That wasn’t very kind, Stephie.’_ Donna spoke, making Stephen jump ever so slightly in his seat. This didn’t go unnoticed by Stane. The man looked at him with narrowed eyes and Stephen offered him a scowl in return until the waiter came by with four glasses.

“Ah!” George said happily breaking the silence. “Here are the Bullshots! Beef consomme and vodka.” He explained as Stephen grabbed one of the small shot glasses and downed it in one go. “Something of an acquired taste.”

“I’ve acquired it!” Stephen exclaimed. “Another one please.” He said to the waiter.

“His father was a very good pianist.” Nicholas spoke up, bringing the conversation back to something Stephen loathed- wonderful.

“If you like pastiche.” Stephen said with a chortle.

“And in conversation too.” Stane began.

“That depends! Some people don’t like uninterrupted rudeness or so I’m told.” Stephen said with a biting laugh.

“True, I did once ask him to stop being so argumentative.” George spoke a little dishearteningly- drawing Stephen’s attention.

“And what did he say?” Stane asked.

“Told me to bugger off.” George said with a laugh- although Stephen could tell the story was one he wasn’t fond of. Not many involving his father were kind. Stane and Nicholas both began to laugh so Stephen joined in- although bitterly.

“What a lot of faithful gun dogs…” Stephen muttered more to himself but Stane noticed, drawing his attention.

“I’m sorry, what?” He asked, and Stephen quickly nodded to the picture behind Stane, conveniently placed.

“Are you interested in hunting, Stephen?” Obadiah asked with a smirk and Stephen sighed.

“Oh Christ here we go…” Nicholas mumbled at the same time Donna chimed in with her own bitter remarks.

“I just thought he might be interested in a story!” Stane said.

“The thought you never have was that someone might not be interested.” Nicholas replied with an eye roll and Stephen had to do his best not to applaud the man for such amazing sarcasm.

“I’d shot this Tanganyika mountain goat- which was the last of its species, a bittersweet moment really.”

“Yes, for the goat.” Nicholas said dryly.

“Oh! I’ve got a hunting story for you. Mr. Stane.” Stephen said, leaning forward in his chair with a wide smile spreading across his lips. “It’s from my father- Nicholas you know the one.”

“Stephen- don’t.” Nicholas warned.

‘Stephie, that isn’t a good idea.’ Donna agreed but he was already pushing forward.

“My father was a cavalry officer stationed in India in the 1920s and he used to go pig sticking galloping through the high grass with a lance.” Stephen explained and Stane leaned forward as well, a challenging smile on his lips.

“Wild boar they were- very dangerous these wild boar. They could take down a horse and gut it to death- but thrilling too! Anyway. The only blemish in this particular story- Oh I must have heard this when I was what, eight? Was that one of the hunting party was bit by a wild dog and developed the symptoms of rabies- three days from the nearest hospital.” Stephen explained and Nicholas shifted in his seat rather uncomfortably.

“This group of judges and generals decided to truss up their foaming and thrashing friend in a net- dinner was served. Lanterns on the table, a gleam of silver. Well trained servants. None of them could quite enjoy the dinner with all that screaming- so my father. He got up from the table. Fetched his pistol, went over to the rabid man, and shot him in the head.”

  
“Much the kindest thing to do. Don’t you think? Everyone agreed. Eventually.” Stephen asked with a fake smile. “At least my father seemed to think so.”  
  
The table went quiet once again. George looked at Stephen with a hint of sadness in his eyes- Nicholas was looking down at his hands. But Stane kept eye contact with Stephen- and his smile never faltered.

It sent a chill down Stephen’s spine.

“What a wild story!” A new voice from behind Stephen had him jumping ever so slightly. He whipped his head around to see yet another familiar face standing beside his chair, hand resting on the back quite close to Stephen’s head- how had he not noticed him approach? “Sounded just up your ally, Obi.” He said, plopping down on the arm of Stephen’s chair with no regard to personal space- Stephen scooted away slightly but couldn’t move far enough away to escape that faint press of the man’s arm against his.

“I’m not that much of a sadist, Tony.” Stane answered with a grin. “Fashionably late as always.”

“What can I say? I like to make an entrance.” The brunette said- causing Stephen to force away memories from just last night. _What were the chances of this?_ Slim to none!

 _‘You always were the luckiest of us three.’_ Victor said in a mocking tone.

“Well, now that you’re here- would you like a drink or should we go to lunch?” George asked happily- seemingly familiar with this Tony.

“Yes, let’s eat!” Obadiah said, standing up. The rest of them stood- including Tony which Stephen let out a sigh of relief from. He himself stood, pulling his jacket tightly around himself.

“Stephen.” Nicholas pulled Stephen back, the rest of them walking ahead of them. “Do try to be a bit nicer- that there is Tony Stark. CEO of-”

“Stark industries?” Stephen asked- although he knew the answer. “Wonderful. Another war obsessed moron.”

“Genius, actually.” Nicholas corrected with a sigh. “George has been quite reckless lately, getting involved with names much bigger than himself. But I trust it’s only for today. Just be as kind as you can.”

“The definition of high society- Nicholas, is kissing each other’s asses until your lips bleed.” Stephen answered with mild amusement as they approached an already set table, although as soon as they arrived Stephen took one look at the group and shook his head.

“Where’s the loo?” He asked George.

“Oh, just through that door in the corner,” George said. “Want us to wait for you?”

“Oh no need. Enjoy yourselves.” Stephen said, and broke away from the group, heading for the door George had pointed out. On the other side he found the bathrooms decorated with white and black marble- he ran inside quickly, barely reaching the sink before his stomach emptied itself of everything he had managed to stuff inside him that morning.

Although the majority of it was alcohol.

“Jesus Christ, could have made it to the toilet!” Some random man said in disgust.

“Good idea.” Stephen said, wiping his mouth and relocating himself to one of the stalls, he closed it quickly and sat down on the closed toilet- breathing heavily. He wasn’t sure when the man left, in fact, he wasn’t sure how much time passed as he squeezed his eyes shut.

With shaking hands, Stephen pulled the two syringes from his jacket pocket- ‘ _always be prepared’_ Victor had reminded him that morning as he rolled up his shirt sleeve, wrapping his own tie tightly around his bicep. He removed the cap of the syringe and looked down at his arm where the veins were becoming quite shy. But still- Stephen found one with a lucky stab and pushed the plunger down hard and quickly untied his tie- allowing the solution free passage.

Cocaine was in the second syringe, and Stephen felt the effects instantly. Perhaps shooting more than he should have- but the rush was needed if he was going to deal with this lot. He managed to put the spike in the same spot, rolled down his sleeve and ignored the warm trickle of blood slipping down his arm.

By the time Stephen had righted himself, stuffed the syringes back into his pockets and managed to stand on his own two feet- he figured it must have been ages since he left the others. Wobbling carefully towards the door, he wandered back to the dining room.

When he arrived, he spotted George, Nicholas, Stane and Stark all still reading the menus- much to his disdain. He had hoped he’d been away longer. Or were they just being polite and waiting for him all this time? Guilt began to pool in his gut as he drew close.

George looked up with a smile.

“Ziouu Ziouu Ziouu?” he asked Stephen, who blinked at him.

“Chok-chok-chok.” Said Stane- sounding a lot like a helicopter.

“Aioua. Aioua.” Nicholas joined in and Stephen stood there staring in mild confusion at the sounds they were making- or was it just him? What the fuck were they trying to tell him? Stephen sat down wordlessly and wiped his face with a pale pink napkin.

“Sot,” He said in a long elastic whisper. “Chok-chok-chok.” Stane continued and Stephen was sure a small groan left his lips- drawing attention, he simply smiled it off. George was also smiling, but Stephen listened helplessly to the others as they spoke in the dialect of noises rather than words.

“Ziouu ziouu, chok chok, Aiou.”

Stephen sat there helplessly, astonished by his own menu like he hadn’t ever seen one before. The pages were covered in dead things- cows, shrimps, pigs, oysters, lambs. It like a list of casualties. Each of them accompanied by a brief description that Stephen couldn’t bare to read. He stared down at the words helplessly at the descriptions of death- faintly aware of the tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

Why was this happening?

All this cruelty- filth! People had gone savage and didn’t care. Looking at the sheep he could see the blood gushing- it struggled to live.

His own name appeared in one of the sections- and Stephen felt his breath leave him as Victor read the words aloud to him.

_‘Stephen Vincent Melrose: Jumped from thirty three stories, boiled in a hotel bathtub, and lightly seasoned with fresh cocaine and a side of boiled heroin.’_

“Oh god.” Stephen said- the words slipping out along with a few fat tears. They trailed helplessly down his cheeks. He took in a stuttering breath and looked back up at the rest of them- all chattering about nothing Stephen could understand.

“Ziouu ziouu, chok-chok.”

“Chok-chok, Aiou.”

“Are you alright?” A voice whispered close to his ear and Stephen felt a hand enclose around his own shaking fingers which were gripping the menu with enough force to bend the plastic permanently. Stephen looked up to meet deep brown eyes and he let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

_‘No one will find you, Stephen.’_

“No.” Stephen whispered to Donna- but froze when he realized he’d said it out loud. Tony’s eyes widened slightly and stood up from his seat, pulling Stephen along with him. There were a few calls of concern and confusion from the table as Tony lead Stephen away- back to the bathroom it looked.

Stephen didn’t resist- anything seemed better than listening to one more ‘Ziouu.’

They reached the bathroom and Stephen went straight for the sink- feeling a wave of nausea once again- but managed to swallow it down. Shaking hands turned on the faucet and he splashed his face, looking up at his reflection with mild horror. Despite the coolness of the water his skin was burning. His chest began to tighten- his vision blurred.

“God.” He wheezed, gripping the slick porcelain of the sink, his hands were sweaty, he felt like he was burning. There was a faint tug on his shoulders- and it took some time for him to realize that there were a pair of hands working swiftly to remove his overcoat- on most occasions he’d protest. But having the black coat tugged down over his shoulders was like a breath of fresh air.

Stephen backed away from the counter and allowed the jacket to be removed entirely- it was discarded to where he wasn’t sure. Stephen leaned heavily against the skin once again and his single good eye evaluated himself- he looked ghastly. No wonder Stark had asked- he looked on the verge of dying right then and there. His one visible eye blown wide and puffy with irritation. Tears streaked his face- and the dark circles were so prominent they could be seen peeking out from under the patch.

“Not a fan of lunch parties?” Tony asked, leaning against the counter just a few inches away from Stephen- who startled, almost forgetting the man was here. It took Stephen several moments to work up the energy to respond- his breath returning to some semblance of normal.

“Not a fan of people.” Stephen replied with a frown, not looking away from his reflection. “I’m not fit for company….” He muttered to himself, but Tony seemed to hear it and found it amusing- considering the laugh.

“People are terrible, aren’t they?” Tony asked although didn’t expect an answer considering he continued to talk. “Although I shouldn’t say that, I love people. Especially when they’re talking about me.” He said with a smile, but Stephen didn’t offer one in return. “Bad joke?” Tony asked, and again, Stephen didn’t answer.

“Do you ever laugh?” Tony asked, snapping his fingers near Stephen’s face to draw his gaze- which he did manage. “Aside from when you’re telling nightmare-fueling stories?”

Stephen blinked, and- strangely enough he did manage a laugh. Although it was quite strained.

“There we go!” Tony cheered with a chuckle of his own, hands clapping together. “Tony Stark by the way-” Tony said, holding out a hand to shake. Stephen eyed it wearily but accepted the offered hand. “Although I’m sure you knew that already.” He added with a wink and Stephen frowned.

“Stephen.” Stephen said, “and actually I didn’t.”

“Just Stephen?” Tony asked with an eyebrow raised. “Are you from out of town?”

“Yes, what gave it away?” Stephen asked, adding a hint of emphasis to his accent and ignoring the first question- he didn’t feel like being associated with his father at the moment. Not that someone who claimed to be famous would know the name of his father- but better to take no chances.

“Your coat.” Tony answered which threw Stephen off, he scowled, hands drawing around himself to close his overcoat tightly around him- only realizing it wasn’t there. His eyes peered over Tony’s shoulder where the jacket lay limply on the counter. What about his coat?

“What about it?” He asked aloud and Tony laughed- making him even more upset.

“Nothing! I was just kidding. Cool down a bit- you’re very on edge.” He said with a lazy grin and Stephen shook his head, returning his gaze to the mirror. He gingerly poked at the eye patch- the exposed skin around it still seemed swollen and was sore to the touch. He gently lifted the black patch covering his swollen eye and winced at the sight- it was better after the cream he had applied, it at least could open now.

“Wow.” Tony whispered- standing much closer now. Close enough that Stephen could feel his breath. “What happened? Wild night?”

“Yes.” Stephen answered, snapping the patch back into place. “Quite the party.”

“I thought you didn’t like people?”

“Who said anything about people?” Stephen replied without missing a beat and Tony blinked at him wordlessly. They fell into a pregnant silence until the brunet began to laugh openly.

“You’re fun.” Tony said eventually, stepping forward even further into Stephen’s space. Stephen tried to back away, although his back hit the counter top and suddenly Tony was blocking him from moving- leaning forward until his face was just inches from his own.

What was happening?

 _‘Again?’_ Victor asked and Stephen shook his head.

“Don’t-” He began, but Tony pulled away- in his hand he held Stephen’s own phone in his hands with a wide smile.

“A flip phone? This is actually disgusting.” Tony quipped as he flipped the small device open and clicked a few buttons, and handed it over.

“What did you-?”

“My number. Give it a ring if you’re in the mood for a real party.” Tony replied, giving Stephen a wink.

Stephen snatched the phone from the billionaire's hands and looked down at the screen to see that Tony had already sent a single text to himself- one that made Stephen’s nose wrinkle and a spark of anger pool in his stomach.

 **T.S:** <3

“No thank you.” Stephen answered quickly, stuffing the device back into his pocket. He made to step around Tony and retrieve his jacket, but the man seemed to know Stephen’s plan- and snatched the black overcoat before he could.

“What are you doing?” Stephen asked, a wave of anxiety hitting him- he had two syringes and several bags of money hidden in that jacket. He needed it. “Give me my jacket.” He said with a frown.

“How about we go get some real food? Obi was the one who wanted to meet these Londoners- so boring. Plus the food on that menu? No thanks, real rich people? They don’t eat that garbage.” Tony prattled, tucking the jacket under his arm and spinning on his heel, heading for the door. Stephen watched- stunned.

 _‘Are you going to let him take your precious coat?’_ Victor asked, voice taunting. Stephen scowled.

“Give me my jacket, Mr. Stark.” Stephen said through clenched teeth, following after him. Tony stopped suddenly, Stephen nearly bumped into him in the middle of the main hall of the Key Club. Stephen watched in mild horror as the shorter man shook out the jacket and actually slipped it on over his own arms-  
“How do I look?” Tony asked, grinning up at Stephen.  
  
Aside from the fact that Tony Stark was wearing a jacket full of Heroin, it was slightly over sized, the sleeves were just a titch long and the end of it hit mid shin rather than his knees where it’s meant to fall.

“Hideous.” Stephen said, voice flat. Tony just laughed and continued walking until he lead the two of them out the main door.

“This is disgusting.” Stephen snapped, scowling down at the burger in his hands. Across from him, Tony was working on his third cheeseburger- they had somehow arrived at a Burger King. Tony was still wearing Stephen’s jacket despite his many requests for him to take it off. Although at this point Stephen was sure that by asking- he was just lessening the chance of him getting his jacket back.

“That’s what you get for ordering a _Chicken_ burger.” Tony said with a full mouth. “No shit it’s gross.”

“Anything from here is gross. Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Stephen said, pushing his burger aside and picking at the french fries instead- at least they were good.

“Wh-” Stephen glared and Tony paused, his chewing speed increased until he swallowed the ridiculously big bite he had taken. “What do you mean anything? If you don’t like cheeseburgers we can’t be friends.” Tony said, sticking his hand into the paper bag and pulling out another wrapped cheeseburger, sliding it over to Stephen.

“Good. I don’t want to be your friend.” Stephen said and eyed the burger- he was hungry. He had skipped breakfast. Unless three glasses of bourbon counted. But Stephen doubted that was a healthy meal plan.

Not that Burger King was a step up.

“Harsh.” Tony said and stuck out his bottom lip into a pout. “Eat, you look like you’re about to die.”

“Charming.” Stephen answered but grabbed the still warm burger and unwrapped the paper- the smell made his stomach churn- threatening to empty itself yet again. Still, he bit into the burger, the greasy flavor intruding his mouth. A pleased noise left him despite himself, and took another, bigger bite.

“See? Good right?” Tony said with a smile and Stephen shook his head but continued to silently eat. His stomach happy to finally have something other than alcohol sloshing around.

 _‘A cheeseburger? Your standards are so much higher._ ’ Victor said, and Stephen rolled his eyes. Were they? ‘ _Only the best or go without, remember?’_

“Remember..” Stephen mumbled around his burger, pulling it far enough away from his lips just to pop a few fries in.

“So….” Tony said, drawing Stephen’s attention, “Talk to yourself often?”

“Excuse me?” Stephen asked, and Tony’s lips pulled into a smile.

“You were just doing it.” He explained, leaning against his hand, elbow propped up on the table. “And you were getting really into yourself at that restaurant.”

“Why talk to other people when I’m the most interesting person I know?” Stephen asked between bites.

“Good point.” Tony nodded, and fell silent. Stephen ate the rest of the burger in silence, occasionally munching on fries until they were gone- even then he nabbed a few from Tony’s tray. When was the last time he had eaten fast food? Years maybe. Considering his family, it wasn’t surprising.

He did recall a time his mother cared enough to take him and Donna to Wendy's, but it was a short lived trip. Stephen was pretty sure he only got a few bites of a frosty until they’re nice getaway was ruined by the arrival of Eugene.

He was pretty sure that was the last time his mother tried to do anything nice for him.

“So tell me.” Tony spoke again, drawing Stephen out of his thoughts. “Do you just not like it when people pay for your food? Is that not the way to your heart?”

“I don’t like it when old men flaunt their money to get something that isn’t for sale.” Stephen snapped in response, recalling Stane’s smirk. “Which reminds me, you have terrible taste in friends.”

“You mean Obi?” Tony asked, eyes widening, a smile spread across his lips as he let out an obvious laugh that meant he knew something Stephen didn’t.

“Yes.” Stephen said, “I don’t appreciate being ogled by a bald old man.”

“Oh? What about a twenty five year old billionaire?” Tony asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Stephen gave him a flat stare before it clicked.

“You paid?” He asked.

“Of course. Obadiah is bold but not the type to be interested in skinny drug addicts.” Stephen opened his mouth to protest but the words died when Tony pulled out one of the two syringes from Stephen’s jacket pocket.

“And you are?” Stephen asked, eyes narrowed.

“Interested enough to pay for a crazy high bill for a single person- although your hefty tip was enough to say “not interested.”’ Tony said, fiddling with the syringe.

“Congratulations.” Stephen said, reaching across the table to yank the syringe from Tony’s hand- who didn’t resist. “Not interested.”

“In Obi.” Tony said. “Who you thought was coming onto you. But what about me?”

“No.” Stephen answered without missing a beat.

“Harsh.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.” Stephen said. “Give me my coat.” He instructed, holding his hand out- however Tony didn’t move.

“I’m sure I will.” He said with a sigh, pulling out yet another burger- Stephen frowned at his appetite. How many was that now? Six at least? “I’m always on the lookout for friends and you- are fun.” Stephen answered with a blank look.

“Aside from obvious withdrawal symptoms- is there a reason you were so upset?” Tony asked after another beat of silence and Stephen stared at him in mild bewilderment.

“My father just died.” Stephen answered, surprising himself with the honest answer. Well, as honest as Stephen could get.

“I’m sorry.” Tony said, but his smile suggested he wasn’t really sorry. “Although not to be rude but, seems like you weren’t a fan- we have that in common.”

“Goody.” Stephen answered dryly. “I’d rather not bond over mutual dislike.”

“But it’d be so easy.” Tony said with a sigh. “We could always bond over drinks. Two alcoholics walk into a bar?”

“I don’t drink with lightweights.” Stephen growled and Tony inhaled his soda- coughing through a fit of laughter.

“By the state of you earlier I’d say I’m not the lightweight here.” Tony replied after regaining his composure. Stephen scowled.

“That’s what happens when you almost kill yourself with cocaine.” Stephen said perhaps a little to lightheartedly and Tony gaped at him for a brief moment. “Could have been worse, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“You seem way to relaxed to be on a stimulant.” Tony said with narrowed eyes and Stephen scoffed.

“That’s the heroin, moron.” He snapped- “You don’t take one without the other- it’s like peanut butter and jelly.”

“I prefer honey.” Tony said with a grin.

“Spoken like a true idiot.” Replied Stephen with a snort. “Although, I have been trying to give it up.” _Why would he say that?_

“What, honey?” Tony asked.

“No, the peanut butter and jelly. Honey is unavoidable.” Stephen smiled and Tony’s own seemed to grow exponentially. Stephen had hardly noticed when the man shed his coat- draping it across the table.

Stephen could leave anytime now- he had his jacket, and yet he wasn’t moving. Instead he was reaching for a few more fries and a drink of very watered down root beer. They bantered back and forth for awhile longer- Stephen enjoyed it perhaps a little more than he’d like to admit. But Tony was able to deflect his jabs and jab right back with the same sense of egotistical sarcasm that Stephen possessed.

It was refreshing in a way.

But it also left him feeling uncomfortable. The way Tony looked at him reminded Stephen of why he was here- not for friendship and banter. Tony Stark was trying to woo him, and it wouldn’t happen.

He couldn’t let it happen.

So why was he still here?

“I like this song.” Tony broke the silence, drawing Stephen out of his inner turmoil. He perked up and listened to the faint music filling the small Burger King and a smile snuck onto his face upon recognition.

“Heart of the City, written by Nick Lowe and first released on August 14th, 1976. I like it too.” He said with a smile, Tony raised his eyebrows at him as he took a long drink of his pop.

“Wow- you must _really_ like this song.” He said.

“Not particularly. I just- remember things easily.” Stephen replied, nonchalant. Was he showing off? Probably.

“You just- remember?” Tony asked and Stephen nodded. “If I gave you any song- you could tell me the date it was released?” Another nod. “Bullshit.”

“Want me to prove it?” Stephen asked, stealing another fry and leaning against the booth with a lazy smirk.

“Back in Black?” Tony asked and Stephen rolled his eyes.

“1980, at least try and make it a challenge.”

“I was warming you up.” Tony said through narrowed eyes- looking like he was contemplating. “Respect?”

“1967.”

“Purple Haze?”

“1970.”

“Dancing Queen?”

“Listen to Abba a lot do you?” Stephen asked with a widening smile and Tony scoffed at him.

“Just answer the question- I want the date this time.” He said.

“August 16th, 1976.” Stephen answered. Tony stared at him with a deep scowl.

“Crazy In Love.” He said with a grin and Stephen actually chuckled.

“2003, if you don’t know that you’re an idiot.” Stephen said and Tony nodded, leaning back in his seat.

“I give up, you truly know useless facts about music.” He said, stuffing five fries in his mouth.

“I can do it with movies too.” Stephen said and Tony rolled his eyes.

“Now you’re just bragging.” Tony said and Stephen shrugged his shoulders- he wasn’t wrong. Stephen enjoyed bragging. They lapsed into silence once more and Stephen was quite comfortable with it- however, the food was soon completely gone, and he no longer had fries to steal from Tony’s tray.

Which is why Stephen eventually reached for his coat and stood up- face schooled into its usual frown as he looked down at Tony Stark- who had a playful smirk on his lips and long eyelashes that added to the effect of seduction.

Eyes really shouldn’t be that expressive.

. “Totally give me a ring if you want to party though. Platonically. Of course- since you’re not interested. Expect you probably won’t- so I’ll just call you.” Tony said as Stephen turned to leave.

“Glad that’s stuck. Goodbye Mr. Stark. Hopefully we’ll never meet again.” Stephen quipped, pulling his jacket on.

“Goodbye Mr. Stephen.”

Stephen rolled his eyes- but couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across his lips as he walked towards the door. Only to find it was quite dark out- his eyes widened at the sudden realization and looked at his phone.

“Shit.”

“Wait wait please!” Stephen shouted just as the doors to the Mortuary shut- he could feel the faint click of the lock in his very soul as his hands slammed against the glass doors. “Wait! I need to collect the ashes- it’ll just take a moment!” He shouted through the door and the familiar woman whom he had shouted at before.

He felt a minor amount of pity for her.

She hesitated, looked around, and eventually opened the door for Stephen.

“Oh- thank you!” He said with a long sigh. He had meant to come straight here after the terrible run in at the Key Club, but got quite distracted along the way with a few stops in public restrooms for a nice fix.

“I’m here for Eugene Melrose-” He said as they walked to the back. She looked through the files on her computer- and Stephen trusted she’d get it right this time.

“A box- correct?” She asked, looking up from the glowing screen for confirmation.

“Oh yes- nothing to fancy. His ego was big enough already.” He said with a laugh, although she looked slightly horrified.

It took approximately five minutes to find Eugene. She brought out a box that was about the size of a pumpkin- a sleek, mahogany color that Stephen had to admit looked quite nice. Even if his father didn’t quite deserve something of such high quality.

“Do you have a plastic bag?” Stephen asked, looking at the time. The concierge gave him yet another horrified look but- did manage to find him a brown plastic bag in which Stephen stuck the remains of Eugene Melrose. Although Stephen was banking on the idea that they had accidentally put someone else in this box- although with his luck that was unlikely.

It took, perhaps an hour for him to make it to the small restaurant in the middle of New York city, it was close to six- which meant he still had half an hour until Christine arrived. Anticipation ran through Stephen at the thought of young, beautiful Christine. He had met her a few times before- she and Debby had been college friends. She was perhaps, the most beautiful woman Stephen had ever laid eyes on.

She was worth waiting out in the cold with no company but a dead man.

“Stephen?” A call came from a few feet away and Stephen’s head shot up from where he was looking at the ground- watching a particularly interesting crack.

“Christine!” He declared her name like it was sacred and ran towards her with open arms, engulfing the girl in a hug quite out of his character. A happy laugh emerged from her lips and Stephen’s heartbeat seemed to double in pace- was that love or was it the Cocaine? He wasn’t sure. Either way, it was fantastic.

“How are you?” She asked, pulling away. Stephen stood up to his full height and let an easy smile spread across his lips.

“Oh- we can’t complain.” Stephen said with a laugh, shaking the bag in his hands with perhaps a bit too much venom. Christine’s eyes widened as she looked down at the bag in hand.

“Oh- I heard. Is that-?”

“Eugene? Yes! I’ve never seen him better.” Stephen answered and opened the door to the restaurant for her and they entered.

Stephen wasn’t particularly hungry considering he’d just eaten, compliments of Tony Stark, famous inventor. An interesting story that would make. But- sitting down across from Christine had all memories of Tony fading away. He smiled at her- she was beautiful, wearing a dark blue dress with red lipstick that was hard to look away from.

“How are you?” He asked, and she offered a shy smile in response and waited for the waiters to place two waters on either side of them- Stephen set the plastic bag of remains on the table beside him with a happy smile.

“I’m doing marvelous. I’ve just started med school!” She explained and Stephen brightened up.

“Really? That’s amazing! I wish I could do something like that.” He said- although a doctor was what his father fancied himself to be, and his father was what Stephen wanted to be least.

“Why don’t you? You’ve always been smart.” She said eagerly, picking up the menu.

“Oh I don’t know…” Stephen said, waving down a waiter. “I’ll have a martini please- two.”

“Ah no- I don’t drink, just water.” Christine answered smoothly and Stephen felt his chances of bringing this girl back to his hotel with him slip- doesn’t drink?

 _‘She doesn’t drink? Bad sign. Maybe she’s into Quaalude's?’_ Victor asked and Stephen had to refrain from shushing him. Or did he? He couldn’t tell half the time.

“Don’t you?” He asked, perhaps a little too aggressively.

“Oh no, I find it blurs the edges- dulls the senses.”

 _‘You’re point being?’_ Victor scoffed.

“You’re absolutely right, I usually don’t either.” Stephen lied.

“Aren’t you going to be hot in your coat?” She asked, and Stephen looked down at his jacket- right.

“Oh- yeah. I can take it off if it makes you uncomfortable.” He said with a smile and she nodded.

“Well…” She said.

“Off it goes!” Stephen said, beginning to speak a bit too quickly. “I could take off my eye patch to- should I?” He asked, lifting a hand to the black patch and pulling it just slightly off his eye- but at the look Christine gave he snapped it back in place. “Never mind I’ll keep it on.”

She laughed, and it fizzled to silence.

“But really Stephen, I think you could do it.” Christine went on. “Don’t you have a great memory? I remember you- you could always identify any song, and the year it came out-”

“Just a party trick.” Stephen answered smoothly.

“Really? I seem to recall someone drunkenly reciting Shakespeare in my bathroom before throwing up all over the floor.” Christine said with a light laugh. Stephen raised an eyebrow at the memory- but did recall a party at Christine’s about two years back.

“To die, to sleep, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.” Stephen recalled quietly- that’s right. He did have a knack for memorizing long poems revolving about death and depression. Christine smiled brightly at him and Stephen sighed in mild defeat.

“Photographic memory.” He explained, taking a lazy drink of his martini. “A curse really.” Stephen often relived things he’d rather forget because of it. Remembering was not a gift.

“Please, it’s a gift! You could use it for such great things.” Christine said, and Stephen looked at her and smiled softly.

“You’re right. I could.”

 _‘Could you? You can hardly walk sometimes.`_ ` Victor spoke softly in his ears, but Stephen drowned him out with another long drink.

“You should.” Christine said, reaching across the table to place a hand on his- Stephen stared. “I know you didn’t get along with your father- but do you think you could ever forgive him?” She asked.

“Doubtful.” Stephen answered, setting his martini down and Christine laughed lightly, drawing her hand away.

“They fuck you up your mom and dad- they may not mean to, but they do.” She said- and that was perhaps one of the few times Stephen had heard Christine swear.

He liked it.

“Who says they don’t mean to?” Stephen asked with a lazy smile, taking another drink and ordering another when it was empty. “As I say- I don’t usually drink but, you know, grief.” He said with a laugh, mock crying but stopping at Christine’s odd look.

 _‘Say something. Remember how this is done. Something other than lies or ridicule or contempt._ ’ “Debby sends her love!” ‘ _Not that, you fucking idiot!’_

“How is she?” Christine asked right away.

“Oh- she’s a great girl.” He said, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat. “Very supportive.” ‘Change the subject.’ “She did mention you were studying at Columbia.”

“Yes! I’m really loving it.” Christine said. “I think you could do it, as I’ve said- why don’t you?”

“Oh- because hard work and ambitions are vulgar.” Stephen quoted his father.

“Oh my God, you don’t believe that do you?” Christine asked, eyes wide.

“Oh no- it’s just something he said.” Stephen answered, gesturing to the box. Christine looked at it and nodded.

“Well, you aren’t your father, Stephen.” She said kindly.

“You’re absolutely right. And you know what? You’ve inspired me, I’ll do something about it as soon as I get off the plane.” Stephen said with a wide smile- and half of him actually meant it. His attention turned to the box. “You hear that dad? A new man!”

“Stephen- I’m a bit concerned about the box.” She said uneasily and Stephen waved it off.

“Don’t be, I think he counts as hand luggage.” He answered happily.

“No- I meant, could you put it on the floor?” Christine asked and Stephen nodded.

“Yes of course.” He said, putting the box down onto the floor, kicking it slightly under his chair. “Let the waiters kick him about- revenge at last! Why should he get away with it? Just because he’s dead?”

“Get away with what?” Christine asked, and Stephen’s mouth snapped shut, he pushed his menu away and shook his head.

“I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?” Stephen asked and Christine nodded with a kind smile. They both sat in silence until the food came- which Stephen touched none of. His appetite had long since faded. Although- the martinis were wonderful, he had at least eaten five of them.

“I thought you liked Armenian food?” Christine said after awhile- her plate nearly clean.

“The martinis are excellent.” Stephen said in response.

“Stephen…” Christine began, catching his attention. “Tell me, did you ever tell your dad how you felt about him?” She asked, and Stephen shook his head.

“Not while he was alive.” He answered. “Probably for the best.”

“Why? I mean, what would you have said to him?”

 _‘Yeah Stephie, what would you have said?’_ Donna asked lightly and Stephen looked down at the martini that was mostly gone- he tipped the glass around, watching it slosh.

“I would have said….” He stared, memories of locked doors and dark curtains flooding into his mind. “I would have told him- “nobody should do that to anybody else.”’ He said, looking up to see Christine smiling at the waiter who had just brought their bill.

“Thank you.” She said to them- obviously not hearing him.

“Oh sorry, I took the question seriously.” He said quietly.

“Oh, no I’m sorry, you were saying?” She asked.

“Just-” Stephen almost repeated- but he shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Stephen, I should really be getting back home. It was really nice to see you again.” Christine said after a long pause. Stephen looked up at her, eye wide.

 _‘No no no no no!_ ’ “Christine- we’ve always had a connection, haven’t we?” Stephen asked, leaning across the table. “Or am I just- imagining it?”

“Well, no. I’ve always been very fond of you and Debby.” Christine answered, and Stephen nodded lightly, staring at the girl as she stood up up with a smile. A part of him wanted to just let her go but-

“I don’t suppose you want to do a Quaalude, do you?” Stephen asked, and Christine stared at him with a sudden frown.

_‘Oops.’_

“No.” Christine said, and grabbed her bag, leaving the restaurant. Stephen sat there for a moment before getting up and going after her- tossing several twenties onto the table in a hurry. As he ran out into the cold.

“Christine! Wait, please. I’m sorry for being so screwy.” He explained.

“It’s an emotional time, goodnight Stephen. Taxi!” She called and a call pulled up.

“Oh..” Stephen said, pausing in his steps for just a second before following after her again. “Good yes, goodnight You know, sometimes I think if I was to meet the right woman, someone intelligent…” Stephen began as Christine climbed into the back of the taxi. “Who wasn’t afraid to challenge me, I might actually be able to get my life back in order.”

“Please stop Stephen. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Christine said through the cracked window.

“Please- don’t go.” Stephen said, despite himself- he could feel tears prickling his eyes. _He didn’t want to be alone._ “I really need the company or- I don’t know what I’ll do.”

 _‘Have a date with the window maybe?’_ Victor asked, and this time Stephen shushed him, earning an even more confused look from Christine.

“What is wrong with you?” Christine asked in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot. Please don’t go. I don’t want to be on my own tonight, I can’t. There isn’t anyone else, just sit with me.” Stephen was basically begging at this point- a part of him he didn’t realize was emerging, he really was scared to be alone- wasn’t he?

“Don’t leave me alone.” He said- voice breaking. Christine seemed to contemplate- although she shook her head and offered a sad smile.

“Oh Stephen. You’re not alone.” She said- and the car pulled away.

 _‘She’s right, Patrick._ ’ Nanny spoke in her high voice. ‘ _You’re not alone. And you never will be.’_

“Death and destruction..” Stephen muttered out loud. “Shame and violence- ungovernable shame and violence.” He said as he walked, hand tightening around the plastic bag in his hands.

Christine was right- he’d never be alone. That’s what he was afraid of, wasn’t it?

_‘Shame and violence!’_

“Just- fuck off!” He screamed at the empty sky- and ran back to his hotel.

“I’m going to flush you down the toilet!” Stephen yelled when he burst into his hotel room- just as much of a mess as it had been when he first left. He ripped the box from the plastic bag and threw it across the room onto one of the dressers- breaking several glass vases. He ran over to it, picked it up, and smashed it down on the dresser to try and get it to open- but it remained shut.

“Fuck!” He shouted, throwing it across the room- it landed haphazardly by the bathroom which he ran towards, pulled the top of the toilet off and smashed the porcelain down on the box but the toilet cover simply smashed in half, the box still intact. Stephen stared at it in disbelief for a long moment- blinking.

“How?!” He shouted, tossing the broken toilet cover to the side and grabbing the box again, throwing it across the room.

He stomped.

Kicked.

Smashed and bashed.

But the box remained closed- trapping his father inside.

“Oh god-.” Stephen panted, grabbing the box once more and throwing it as hard as he could against the window- it bounced off, and fell limply to the floor.

Breathing labored, Stephen stared at the closed window and slowly stepped up to it.

 _‘Good God, what an appalling dump._ ’ A muffled voice spoke- and Stephen looked back at the closed door of his hotel room- his heart rate sped up at the resurfacing memory. Shaking hands reached for the latched window- pulling ever so slightly.

The latch stayed in place.

“What’s the point of a fucking window if you can’t jump out of it?” Stephen sighed and pressed his head against the window.

“I want to die.” He whispered quietly with a slight whimper. “ _I want to die.”_

 _‘Well, it’s not as if you don’t have the means!’_ The Doctor spoke.

“Anesthetic first, surely. Doctor?” Stephen asked.

 _‘No, Patrick, Scalpel first, anesthetic afterwards._ ’ Eugene Melrose spoke back and Stephen shook his head, spinning around he began to panic- no no. He didn’t want this.

_‘Shhhh, Stephie. No one can find you here. You’re safe.’_

“But what if nobody finds me here?” Stephen asked, he went back to the window. He squeezed his eyes shut and reached for the latch again- this time pulling harder until it finally gave way. The window swung open and he felt his heart leap into his throat as he looked down at the busy streets of New York- cold breeze hitting his skin.

“Oh god…” He whimpered.

 _‘Isn’t this what you want?’_ Victor asked, Stephen nodded once- then shook his head twice.

“Yes- no. I don’t know.” Stephen answered. He stepped carefully closer- it was a big window. Thirty three floors. No worries at the end.

 _``No one would care.’_ Victor said, ‘ _You’re already lost.’_

“You’re right.” Stephen said, “No one will find me here.”

 _‘Stephen?’_ “Yes Donna?” Stephen asked, swaying back and forth where he stood, balanced on the window sill. She didn’t answer- and Stephen felt his heart sink.

“Donna?” He called again- voice a bit muffled from the wind. It was a bit of a stormy night. Which in a way was perfect. “Donna?” Stephen called again, enjoying the sound of his own voice on the wind. A smile spread across his face as he considered himself- memories of his youth bubbling to the front of his mind with a sense of nostalgia rather than fear.

Something that happened very rarely.

“Well I’ve never….” Stephen spoke softly, words of an old song he used to sing for Donna slowly coming back to him. “Been a man of many words..”

 _‘And there’s nothing I could say that you haven’t heard.’_ He spoke in a higher voice- recalling the sound of his sister joining in on those rare days they had together. He smiled to himself, and couldn’t recall what he had been doing.

“But I’ll..” He choked, looking down at the ground- thirty three floors away. “Sing you love songs, ‘till the day….I-”

_Ding!_

Stephen froze. Shaking hands clung to the sides of the window as he pushed himself backwards and back into the hotel room- he stared- eyes wide in absolute panic as he ran towards the window yet again, but this time throwing himself out to grab the open pane and pull it shut with a great amount of force until it latched into place.

“Oh my god-” He said to himself. “Fuck fuck-” _What was he doing?_

_Had that been his phone?_

Stephen patted himself down until he found the small silver device hidden away in one of his many pockets and flipped it open, eyes watering at the sudden light in his very dark room.

 **T.S:** Turns out seven cheeseburgers mixed with stop and go traffic is a bad combo.

 **T.S** : Driver isn’t happy.

 **T.S:** Really messy.

Staring at the screen for what seemed like hours- Stephen saw it was nearing one in the morning- and Tony Stark had sent him a text about throwing up in the back of a car.

Stephen sank to his knees beside the window and stared at the glowing screen of his phone- realizing only after he was forced to take a deep breath that he had been laughing quite hysterically at the messages.

“Christ.” He mumbled to himself between chuckles and ran a hand through his sweaty hair before typing out a response with little effort.

 **S.M:** You’re an idiot.

“I almost killed myself last night.” Stephen spoke into his phone to his dear friend Johnny Hall. He was sitting in the airport, Eugene perched on his lap. He had drank himself into slumber and woke up stuffed in the light blue bathtub of his hotel room that morning- and pitied the person who’d be cleaning his room after he left for the airport.

 _“Jesus,_ are you alright?” Johnny asked through the phone. “Where are you calling from?”

“The bottom.” Sighed Stephen, pressing the phone against his ear with a bit more force as people began bustling by.

“Christ- are you alright Stephen? Tell me when you land, I’ll come meet you.” Johnny answered with obvious concern that had Stephen smiling slightly to himself. Johnny was always kind.

“Look- I haven’t got long. Can you hear me?” Stephen asked.

“Yes.” Johnny said.

“I’m going to do it. I’ve decided- I’m going to take control of my life.” Stephen said with a growing smile. “I’m going to get clean.”

No response.

“Hello? Johnny? Can you hear me?” Stephen asked.

“Yes, I can hear you. That’s wonderful but- are you sure this time?” Johnny asked.

“Yes. Of course. People always make such a fuss about these things.” Stephen said with a bit of a laugh.

“So, what do you want to do?” Johnny asked, and Stephen fell silent. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to come up with an answer- what did he want to do?

_What could he do?_

“Hello? Stephen?” Johnny called and Stephen felt air build up in his chest as he forgot to breathe. When he did, it came out in an uncontrollable rush. “Stephen? What are you going to do instead?”

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Stephen let out a sob- and cried despite the people walking by. He didn’t mind their stares as his body shook with a mixture of fear and panic. The tears burst through him like water from a dam.

Brick by brick his resolution crumbled as Stephen realized just how lost he was in this wild world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:
> 
> Wild World - Cat Stevens  
> Video Killed the Radio Star - Buggles  
> Back In Black - AC/DC  
> Respect - Aretha Franklin  
> Purple Haze - Jimi Hendrix  
> Dancing Queen - ABBA  
> Crazy In Love - Beyonce  
> I Can't Keep It Inside - Benedict Cumberbatch


	2. 2008

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Hope - Iron Man, 2008

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings again! A bit shorter of a chapter, but still a decent length. The next one however- will be freakishly long. I'm already knee deep in pages. Thanks for all the encouragement! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

“Stephen dear, open the door!” Nicholas Pratt called from behind Stephen’s apartment door. Blinking, Stephen shook himself out of his mindless routine of pouring himself a glass of tea and scraping lines of sugar with his spoon, pretending it was a beautiful line of- something else.

“Coming…” Stephen grumbled and set down the spoon, wiping a hand across the counter to disassemble the line of sugar.

“Now,” Nicholas said as he stepped inside when Stephen opened the door to him, “Why haven’t you replied to Bridget? You simply must come.” He asked and Stephen rolled his eyes. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to even get you invited in the first place?”

“I’m very grateful, but I don’t think I’m ready for the world just yet.” Stephen answered and shuffled further into the sitting room, drawing his blue robe tighter around himself.

“Why are these curtains drawn?” Nicholas asked, walking over to the huge, red curtains and yanking them open- Stephen winced and blinked against the harsh sunlight with a growl. “There.”

“Better than a psychiatric ward, I suppose.” Stephen mused and flopped down onto his couch. “Theoretically.”

“I need a drink, do you have a proper drink?” Nicholas asked, walking around the apartment and Stephen laughed to himself.

“No, that’s one of the reasons I was on the psychiatric ward.” He said, stretching out over the couch- feet hanging over the edge. “I can offer herbal teas.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Scoffed Nicholas. “You know, you might at least open a window, or take a step outside once in awhile. And your mother- she’s almost as reclusive as you are.”

“Amazing, isn’t it? She thinks there might be more to life than going to parties.” Stephen said with a smile.

“Yes,” Nicholas snorted. “I always thought she was a little peculiar. Where is she?”

“As far as I’m aware, she’s driving a consignment of 10,000 syringes to Poland.” Stephen answered. “Everyone says it’s marvelous of her, but I still think charity begins at home. I wish she’d bring them round here.” Stephen said with a long sigh and draped an arm over his eyes.

“I thought you’d- uh, put that all behind you.” Nicholas said awkwardly- obviously uncomfortable discussing Stephen’s past addictions.

“Behind me, in front of me.” Stephen said with a wave of a hand.

“You’re very melodramatic today.” Nicholas said.

“Well, I’ve given up everything and taken up nothing.” Stephen answered with a groan. “What’s the point of going on?”

“You’ve taken up medicine.” Nicholas supplied. “You’re going to ‘work for a living’”

“Yes- that is the intention.” Stephen sighed. “In fact- it’s a necessity with all the medical bills.”

“Yes Stephen, but I still feel as if life-”

“That’s enough now, sit down.” Stephen said, cutting his friend off.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sit down. Offended as I am by the very idea of a “pep talk”, I’m left with no choice.” Stephen said.

“You can’t rot in this hovel, Stephen.” Nicholas frowned. “Despite how depressing it is, I owe it to your dear father to get you back into the swim of things.” Stephen’s nose wrinkled at the mention of his father- that was years ago, no need to bring back ugly memories.

“The fear is, Nicholas- that I might drown.” Stephen said.

“Nonsense.” Nicholas scoffed. “Pull yourself together, find something to wear, and if you must talk about life- you can do so at the party. I’m sure someone will listen to your poetry. And- please remember, it’s a party, you’re not meant to enjoy it.”

Stephen didn’t move until he heard the front door open and close. He uncovered his eyes and let out a long sigh- staring at the ceiling of his small apartment. It was a pasty white- illuminated by the sun which, to him- was blinding and unwanted.

Seven years had passed and Stephen had successfully detoxed. Johnny had sat with him through the three days of pure agony and made sure Stephen entered the program for therapy, and it went just as Stephen had thought it would- terribly.

He hated every minute of it, but still did it.

He stared college the very next year- and with his edict memory, pulled through quite easily. He was in his last few months of med school now- attending Columbia University in New York city just like his dear friend Christine- who had long since forgiven him for his unsavory words all those years ago. She really was a kind girl- and Stephen admired her.

Rolling over, Stephen stretched out and reached across the table for his phone which sat discarded since two days ago- he never was one to keep up with socializing. Johnny and Christine both texted him quite frequently and got annoyed with him when he wouldn’t respond- which was justified considering Stephen’s unstable emotional state.

He was currently in London on break- and was invited so graciously to the birthday party of one Sonny Gravesend- husband of Bridget a woman Nicholas had dated back when Stephen was only eight years old. He had fond memories of Bridget, she was funny, beautiful and quite intimidating but in a good way.

Bridget was the only reason he’d consider going- and perhaps Nicholas. Despite the man’s loyalty to Eugene, Stephen loved Nicholas.

Flipping open his phone Stephen scrolled through the many messages he had received and typed out short, one to two word answers until he reached a thread of texts that had him rolling his eyes with mild annoyance. They had come a few days ago- so only getting four was surprising. Whenever Tony Stark wanted to talk to him, he usually sent five hundred texts until Stephen answered.

 **T.S:** Mr. Stephen, guess what.

 **T.S** : I’ll just tell you since you’re probably not going to respond.

 **T.S** : I’ve gotta go to Afghanistan- how cool is that?

 **T.S:** Maybe I’ll swing by London first.

 **S.M:** Please don’t.

Stephen tossed his phone to the side and swung his legs over the edge of the couch. Standing up to step over the table and drag himself into the other room to get dressed. The party wasn’t for another few hours- but he did have a lunch date with Johnny who had agreed to attend the party with Stephen- much to his relief. There was no doubt going to be alcohol at this event and Stephen wasn’t going to suffer through it alone.

Pulling on a white button up, Stephen sauntered back over to his phone and picked it up to dial his friends number as he buttoned up his shirt. It rang three times.

“Hello?”

“Johnny! Are we still on for lunch?” Stephen asked, placing himself in front of a mirror to comb a hand through his hair- narrowing his eyes at the barely viable patch of grey starting to peak out at his temples- what the fuck was that?

“Oh- yes. I’ve just arrived at my NA meeting, you should come and we can go from there.” Johnny answered and Stephen scoffed.

“Please, why would I? Those groups don’t do anything.” Stephen replied.

“If you’d just try it- maybe you’d understand that it helps.” Johnny said, voice flat. “Telling the truth can be liberating.”

“So you say…” Stephen said with a sigh- he had in fact, decided that today was the day he’d tell the truth. He’d tell Johnny everything. Then maybe he would be able to move past this.

“I’ll stop by at the end and we go to lunch from there. Our reservations are at noon exactly.” Stephen said.

“Alright, bye Stephen.”

“Bye now.”

Stephen hung up the phone and went to toss it back on the table when it vibrated in his hand, he flipped it back open and squinted at the screen, tie in hand.

 **T.S:** Too late.

Stephen narrowed his eyes at the screen- what did that mean? The bastard wasn’t in London was he? Dropping his tie, Stephen typed out a reply.

 **S.M:** Get out of my country.

 **T.S:** Your country? I didn’t realize you had made king status, my apologies.

 **T.S** : Busy?

 **S.M** : Yes. I’m going to a party.

 **T.S** : :)

 **S.M** : No.

 **T.S:** Too late.

 **S.M** : What? Don’t.

 **S.M** : Tony?

 **S.M** : Don’t.

Stephen scowled down at his phone for about seven minutes until he tossed it back down on the table, resigning to the fact that Tony Stark was likely going to find a way to fuck up the day. Hopefully he was just messing with Stephen and wasn’t actually in London- their one meeting in New York all those years ago had resulted in a friendship that Tony had forced upon him.

Tony would text, Stephen would sometimes respond. That was the extent of it. But if the man was planning on popping up- well, Stephen was less than excited. Tony seemed like the exact type of person Stephen didn’t need to deal with or be friends with considering his reputation of being an alcoholic, weapon manufacturing playboy- the exact opposite of what Stephen was trying to become.

Stephen tried to push away the thoughts of Tony and busied himself with getting dressed, rehearsing in his head exactly what he’d be saying to Johnny Hall when they met for lunch- if he had what he wanted to say memorized, then there was little room for chickening out.

He had to do this, otherwise he’d never be free.

Although- perhaps Christine was the better choice? She had, at one point, met his father. Which meant she was familiar with his personality. Although maybe that would be worse. Johnny didn’t know Eugene- which was a blessing.

Johnny had been his greatest friend in his youth, and Stephen so rarely saw him these days. So Johnny was the best choice.

Looking himself over in the full body mirror hung outside his bedroom door, Stephen smiled at himself- trying to force some small spark of happiness into himself as he pulled on a black suit jacket that fit tightly to his frame.

He looked better, that was for sure. No dark circles- no pale skin that resembled a bleached bathroom sink. He looked healthy. On the outside at least- his mind was another whole story.

Stephen smiled at himself, teeth whiter than they had ever been- a few dentist visits and whitening sessions later had them looking quite good after the years of smoking. His eyes lit up as he grinned and he felt a spark of pride at how much better he appeared. Backing away from the mirror, Stephen reached for the stereo tucked away on one of the side tables and switched it on- a lazy smile spreading across his lips as the first few chords of _Rock Is My Life_ by Bachman-Turner Overdrive began to play.

A good choice- good job Stephen.

He turned the volume up to an ear splitting level and waltzed over to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and began to comb his hair- it was cut short, brown and curly enough to be slightly annoying. He made sure to cover up the small grey patches beginning to form. Once it was combed to his liking, Stephen pulled the comb down to his mouth and wiggled his eyebrows at himself, lips parting with a slight hint of glee.

“I just wanna keep on makin’ music.” He sang along with Randy Bachman- although his voice was not on par, considering he was basically screeching the lyrics at an unholy volume.

But no one was here to listen- so who cared?

“We gotta keep on keepin’ on!” He continued and tossed the comb to the side and grabbed one of the many watches set up on a rack, slipping it onto his wrist with a smile. He then exited the bathroom with a slight spring in his step and snatched his phone off the table, stuffing it into his pocket. The lyrics continued to pour out of his mouth as Stephen skipped around his small apartment, he downed the last of his tea and grabbed his wallet, adding it to the building weight in his jacket pocket.

He had long since hung up the black overcoat. It sat unused in his closet for years- instead he wore lighter clothes, and tried to care more about how it fit. Basically, he had become even more obsessed with his looks. Whether this was a step forward or backwards, Stephen wasn’t sure. But he felt better, and that was enough for now.

With one last look around his apartment Stephen made sure he had everything he would need- wallet, phone, his sanity? Or at least a slight amount of tolerance needed for socializing. Normally he’d be doing a type of Macarena right now, making sure he had his stacks of money separated and of course some sort of upper or downer hiding in the folds of his jacket- but no.

He was clean.

He would stay clean. No drugs, no alcohol. He could do it. Even if everyone at this party was likely to be drunk off their asses.

With a deep sigh, Stephen pulled open the door to his small London apartment and left. It had been awhile since he’d seen Johnny- in fact, he hardly knew anything his friend was up to lately. They had texted plenty over the time Stephen spent at Colombia. He was also fairly sure that Johnny and Christine had gotten in touch with each other so that the girl could update Johnny on Stephen’s progress.

It was slightly endearing, but also a little insulting. Getting clean was easy. No big deal at all.

The trip to Johnny’s NA meeting was short- within walking distance in fact. So when Stephen walked up to the building there was still at least half an hour of the meeting left- which meant he’d have to listen to some sob stories.

Goody.

Pulling open the door, Stephen kept his sunglasses on and walked down the small hallway until he reached the slightly open door at the end of the hall and pushed it open to slip inside.

He was greeted with rows of chairs, all facing the front where a man stood, stuttering out words that Stephen hardly paid attention to as he sat down on a bench by the back door, crossing one leg over the other as his eyes scanned the room until he spotted a familiar head of dark, curly hair. From behind- Johnny looked well, which filled Stephen with glee. It was good to see his friend alive and well.

The man in the front finally stopped speaking- and a chorus of clapping rang out through the room and Stephen refrained from rolling his eyes. The only use for this group was to give yourself a boost of self esteem. He could probably go up there and talk about his love for karaoke and they’d all clap for him for no good reason. It had nothing to do with getting clean- but they’d cheer anyway.

Pathetic.

“Hello, my name is Johnny Hall.” Stephen’s attention snapped to his friend who was now standing before everyone- when had he gotten up there? Probably in the middle of Stephen’s mocking.

“I just thought I’d- better say something today…” He trailed off, glancing at Stephen for a brief moment. “I’ll be going to a party tonight, with a dear friend of mine. There’s likely to be alcohol- and I just needed to tell someone. Maybe telling you all will keep me strong. It’ll be tough, but. Yeah.” Johnny trailed off and shuffled on his feet until everyone clapped yet again.

Johnny looked back up at Stephen as he stepped off the small stage and Stephen tapped his watch with a wide smile- it was close to noon, and if they were late they’d lose their table. If they lost their table- Stephen would likely come up with a reason not to tell Johnny anything, and ruin everything he had planned.

Johnny simply rolled his eyes at Stephen but grabbed his coat anyway, making his way to the back of the room- the rest of the group was starting to disperse anyway. Stephen grinned at his friend as he approached.

“Ready?” He asked, and Johnny nodded with some reluctance.

“I see your weird thing about punctuality hasn’t left you.” Johnny said.

“Timeliness is a virtue, Johnny.” Stephen answered, standing up and grinning at his friend, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and nodded towards the door, the two of them departing promptly.

The two of them made light chatter as they hailed a taxi who drove them not but a few blocks to a relatively fancy restaurant. It unfortunately had a bar- which Stephen and Johnny avoided. They were led to a table off to the side where one could view the entire room and easily evaluate every person based on their mannerisms- wonderful. Stephen’s favorite activity was judging others without interaction.

“How have you been?” Johnny asked after they sat down, he grabbed the menu and gave it a glance- Stephen didn’t bother.

“Quite well. Aside from the occasional suicidal thoughts and desire for something stronger than tea.” Stephen said with a smile. A waiter came- and he ordered a Perrier. Johnny did the same. “Yourself?” He asked, trying to keep some semblance of calm.

“Same.” Johnny answered. “Although lately- I’ve gotten up to go to the bathroom and when I arrive there, I think “what am I doing? I’m clean now.” and then remember that I need to actually use the bathroom.”

“Simple times.” Stephen answered with a chuckle- he knew exactly what Johnny meant though. Why else would one use a public restroom other than to get a fix? Or maybe some illness. “I can’t believe people actually use public loos anymore.”

“Likewise.” Johnny said, they lapsed into silence once more and the waiter came by again- they ordered. Stephen went for something simple, a cheeseburger.

That earned him a dirty look considering it was a higher end restaurant and most people were ordering steaks.

_Why put it on the menu if you’re going to be so upset when someone actually orders it?_

“You wanted to talk to me about something- right?” Johnny eventually asked and Stephen swallowed a large drink of sparkling water- here it comes. The moment he’d been psyching himself up about.

“Yes.” He eventually said, “I need to tell you something.” He said slowly, and Johnny nodded, remaining silent as Stephen spoke. He set his drink down and laced his fingers together- they were shaking slightly as he considered how to start- how did someone usually start these sort of talks? He wasn’t sure.

“It isn’t to gain your sympathies-” Stephen clarified. “I don’t want to burden you with knowledge, I just-”

“Would either of you fine gentlemen care for our wine list?” A waiter asked- and Stephen looked up at him with a deep scowl.

“No.” He snapped. “Thank you.” He added quickly- and the waiter nodded, although looked quite unsettled.

“You were saying?” Johnny asked, and Stephen nodded at him.

“I’ve never told anyone this before.” He explained, taking another drink. “It’s just- you know how my father died all those years ago?” He asked, Johnny nodded. “You know I hated him.” Another nod.

“You always said he wasn’t the nicest of people.” Johnny said, eyebrows drawn together like he knew something terrible was coming. Stephen nodded, he opened his mouth to continue when yet another waiter stopped by their table- he sighed and glared up at the man.

“Is everything-”

“-Okay? No! Leave us for five goddamn minutes so we can have a conversation, please.” Stephen seethed, the man looked bewildered, but scurried away quite quickly. Stephen whispered curses under his breath as he reached for his drink again, finishing it off in one giant gulp.

“The truth is, Johnny…” Stephen said after a beat of silence. “My father- well. When I was young, my father abused me.”

Silence. Johnny looked at Stephen with a leveled stare- his lack of response had Stephen’s palms sweating and a sudden desire for something other than sparkling water. He shifted in his seat- waiting.

“When you say abused-?” Johnny asked, and Stephen nodded at him.

“Sexually- I mean.” He clarified, and Johnny’s lips pulled into a deep scowl.

“The bastard.” Johnny swore, and Stephen nodded. “Damn, I always knew you hated him- but I didn’t know why.”

“I should hope most people would hate incestuous pedophiles.” Stephen added, mouth feeling dry. “I’m sorry to burden you with this I just- felt it was time to get it out.” He said- a spark of regret filling his stomach.

“Not at all, I’m glad you told me.” Johnny said. “Damn- I’m quite angry.” His friend shifted in his seat and leaned forward. “Good thing the bastard went and died- I would have laid him out.”

Stephen grinned.

“I would have paid to see Johnny Hall- short drug addict challenge the good Doctor.” Stephen laughed to himself at the mental image. Johnny scoffed at him and leaned back in his chair with the shake of his head.

“I could have done it.” He said, taking a drink. Just then- the waiter returned with a new drink for Stephen. As soon as he set the glass down, Stephen looked up at him and offered his thanks.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier- you see, I was just trying to tell my friend something important.” He explained, and the waiter nodded.

“It’s no trouble, sir.” He replied.

“I must ask- do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive him?” Johnny asked.

“Of course.” The waiter added, and Johnny looked up at him- puzzled.

“No, not you.” He said with a frown and the waiter flushed- excusing himself. Stephen and Johnny shared a laugh.

“I don’t know, if the waiter can forgive me- maybe I can find it in myself to forgive a dead man.” Stephen supplied. “But I doubt it.”

“Perhaps he was insane.” Johnny offered. “Perhaps it’s best to think that-”

“That is a hopeful outlook.” Stephen nodded. Would it be easier to forgive a mentally unwell man for his actions? Was it better? Stephen didn’t know. “Insane or no- I think I’ll hate him all my life.”

“Does hatred and forgiveness mix?” Johnny asked, and Stephen shrugged his shoulders.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Stephen said.

The food came, and they ate in silence save for the occasional word or two about school, the future, sometimes Johnny would break into a fit of anger at Eugene, and Stephen would simply nod along- every thought that popped into Johnny’s head had once crossed Stephen’s- it just took several years to get through it.

“Stephen-” Johnny paused in his eating and looked up at Stephen with mild horror. “Did he-”

“No.” Stephen cut him off before Johnny could ask- he knew what the question would be. “I didn’t let him touch them.” He said, taking a particularly big bite of his burger. Johnny nodded, and they lapsed into silence once again. It wasn’t until they had mostly finished their meals that Johnny finally picked the conversation back up.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing so well Stephen- but I must ask. Have you found something you’re passionate about?” He asked, and Stephen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Why?” He asked, and Johnny shrugged.

“I’ve been told that drug addicts can recover much easier if they have some sort of anchor.” Johnny offered and Stephen frowned.

“Hear that from your support group?” He asked, and Johnny rolled his eyes.

“My point is- Stephen, since you struggled with it as a kid- I think that maybe, what you need is to find someone-”

“I tried that, remember?” Stephen cut him off, knowing where this conversation was going.

“Debby?” Johnny asked. “What ever happened to her?”

“We parted ways. She was better off without me. The only thing love does is set you up for more sadness, Johnny.” Stephen said bitterly. “I couldn’t stand losing it again. No pain is too small if it hurts, but any pain is too big if it’s cherished.”

“But pain lets us know that the love was real, Stephen.” Johnny supplied. “Living without love just because you’re afraid of losing it makes you nothing but a coward.” He said, and Stephen frowned- he had a point. And he hated it.

“What about your mother?” Johnny asked eventually, and Stephen shook his head.

“She was ghastly and quite mad, but when I grew up I figured her worst punishment was to be herself and I didn’t have to do anything more.” Stephen said, hands shaking has he took another drink. His mother was a beautiful woman- but she was weak.

She never loved Stephen, or any of her children. The only kind thing she did for him was call him Vincent- not Patrick, the name his father had chosen for him.

“I’m sorry.” Johnny said. “Perhaps she was suffering as well.”

“Oh she was.” Stephen agreed. “Everyone in that house suffered- that’s why most of us are dead.”

 _Or dying._ His head supplied- and Stephen sighed into his Perrier, pushing down memories he wish would fade- but only grew stronger with each passing day.

“Stephen!” Nicholas called to Stephen as soon as he entered the grand foyer of the estate, Johnny had been with him but quickly branched off after spotting a familiar face from his support group- small world.

“Nicholas.” Stephen greeted as she shed his jacket- revealing his slim fitting black suit. His coat was taken from him right away and hung up with many others. It was dark out by now- but the entire estate was lit up, inside and out. Rows of candles had lead Stephen and Johnny up the long driveway, and Stephen could see tents set up all around the estate- hundreds of people mingling.

_Wonderful._

“I’m so glad you could make it- although I see you didn’t come for dinner. George is around here somewhere- as well as Princess Margaret! I can’t believe Bridget managed to invite the woman.” Nicholas explained. “You should have been here for dinner- she made a complete fool out of Jacques. Do you remember him?” Nicholas asked and Stephen just nodded.

“Well, he spilled sauce on her dress- and she forced him to wipe it up.” Nicholas explained.

“What a scandal.” Stephen said with mock interest, he eyed a tray of champagne- and bit down on his tongue to keep from reaching for a glass. He sighed as the tray was taken away with a server- a pang of longing shooting through him.

“Indeed it was! Now, have you spoken to Bridget yet?” Nicholas asked and Stephen leveled him with a blank stare.

“I just got here, Nicholas. You’re the first person I’ve seen.” He said, and Nicholas nodded.

“I see you brought your good friend Johnny- how kind.” Nicholas supplied and Stephen shrugged. Who else would he bring as his plus one? Plus he needed someone who’d suffer just as much as he would in the presence of alcohol.

“Well, he seems to have found himself a different friend for this evening- so I’m lacking in company.” Stephen said wistfully, and followed Nicholas through the house- they came to a more crowded room where Stephen expertly maneuvered through the bodies without making contact with any of them.

He followed Nicholas outside into the back yard where they found George, who greeted Stephen with much enthusiasm.

“Stephen!” He cried, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been dying to tell you-” His voice lowered as he spoke between Stephen and Nicholas. “Sonny has a mistress.” He explained and Stephen kept from groaning- didn’t everyone have a side someone they were doing at these types of parties?

“And she’s here tonight- if Bridget finds out, I can’t imagine. Especially after this huge party she’s thrown for the old boy.” George said, and Nicholas nodded solemnly.

“At least it’d be entertaining.” Stephen supplied, the two men looked stunned for a moment- before agreeing that yes- it would be rather interesting.

It wasn’t long until several more people began to join the gossip group, so Stephen excused himself and went back inside in search of Johnny- whom he spotted in a far corner with the young lady from his support group. Stephen was making his way over to his friend when a familiar face stopped him.

“Vincent!” Anne called, greeting him with a warm hug. “Or- is it Stephen now? I’m so sorry, i keep forgetting.” She said after pulling away. Stephen smiled at her.

“It’s alright, either one is fine.” He assured her, “How have you been?” He asked, and she began telling him of all the adventures she had experienced over the last seven years- had it really been seven years since they had seen each other? Stephen felt a little sorry- he really did love Anne. She was kind, and perhaps one of the only people from his childhood that he truly appreciated.

“Did you know Princess Margaret was here?” Anne asked after a while, the two of them walked together arm in arm through the huge home- several people had migrated inside and Stephen watched in mild amusement as Nicholas and George’s gossip group grew after having moved indoors.

“I did hear that yes, why in the world would Bridget invite her?” Stephen asked, shaking his head. He had yet to see the host- and was a little disappointed. Bridget was kind, and he hadn’t seen her in years.

“I’m not sure, but she’s really quite awful- did you hear what she did?” Anne asked and Stephen nodded. “Awful isn’t it?”

“Quite.” Stephen agreed as they entered the main party room- it was huge, with a mural painted on the ceiling. It seemed to be a dining area, however the table had been taken away, leaving room- believe it or not, for dancing. Stephen could barely hear music playing over the sound of chattering, but looked on in mild amusement at the group of people attempting to move their bodies with some sense of rhythm.

“Did you enjoy your flight down here? We should have come together!” Anne said.

“Indeed, a missed opportunity. It was pleasant however, as pleasant as air travel can be.” He said- thinking of his flight to New York all those years ago.

“Maybe we can fly back together.” Anne said with a smile and Stephen agreed. “How is school going? I heard you’re doing quite well.”

“It’s easy.” Stephen said, earning a laugh from Anne. “Easy enough to be on route to getting my M.D and PhD by the end of this term.” Stephen explained and smiled at Anne’s impressed look.

“Well- Eugene was a doctor, you must be quite familiar with medicine already.” She said, “Plus you have an impeccable memory- even as a child. I recall you showing off quite often.”

“I did enjoy being the center of attention.” Stephen said wistfully.

“You still do.” Anne corrected. Stephen shrugged his shoulders but let out an amused chuckle.

It was then that Stephen finally spotted Bridget, he excused himself from Anne, and weaved through the crowd until he came to a stop beside the red headed woman- who looked up at him with mild surprise, but warmth soon masked it.

“Oh, Stephen! It’s been so long.” She said with a strained smile- obviously something was wrong, Stephen offered a smile of his own.

“How are you, Bridget?” He asked, and she nodded.

“Well, quite well. Could you do me a favor actually- and keep my mother company for a moment?” She asked- more like pleaded. Stephen looked to a woman who was sitting a little ways off, looking quite lost and- a little sad. Stephen nodded to Bridget, who seemed beyond relieved. “Thank you.” She said, and scurried off.

Stephen approached the older woman with a smile- his lips were beginning to hurt. Socializing really took it out of him. When he drew close, she grinned up at him and offered a hand which stephen took in greeting.

“Hello.” He said.

“Hello.” She replied. “Who might you be?”

“Stephen Melrose, a friend of Bridget and Nicholas.” He explained, and the woman nodded.

“I’m Virginia- I remember Nicholas quite well. A nice man, I think that Bridget has mentioned you before- you were Eugene’s son, right?” She asked, and Stephen nodded.

“I hear dinner here was quite interesting?” Stephen asked. “Spilled sauce?”

“I have heard similar rumors- but Bridget had me eat dinner elsewhere.” The woman explained and Stephen nodded.

“I ate somewhere else as well- not a fan of dinner parties. Or parties in general if I’m being completely honest.” He explained, and Virginia agreed.

“Always so stuffy- and Bridget doesn’t seem well.” Virginia said, looking over Stephen’s shoulder at her daughter- Stephen looked as well and spotted her. She looked tired, stressed, and was struggling to entertain a few other guests.

“She used to frighten me a bit.” Stephen said. “Still does if I’m to be fully honest.” He said with a smile and Virginia laughed.

“Well, it was quite nice to speak with you, Mr. Melrose. But I think I’m going to go and find Sonny- I haven’t had the chance to speak with him yet this evening, which seems awfully rude.” She explained, standing. Stephen nodded and her with a smile of his own.

“Of course, it was nice speaking with you.” Stephen offered, and watched her walk way. He took a deep breath- in, and out. Eyes sliding shut to calm himself down, cut himself off from the scene. The room smelled of cheap perfume, and a mixture of different snack foods and alcoholic beverages which he couldn’t consume.

This was such a bad idea.

Where was Johnny?

Stephen opened his eyes and glanced around the room, scanning faces- but Johnny was nowhere to be seen. With a deep sigh, Stephen began to wander around the room until he spotted his friend finally. He was still chatting with the same girl- and Stephen had almost approached when a hand fell onto his shoulder. He sighed and turned to see Anne standing there once again, eyes wide- Stephen felt his stomach drop- had something happened?

“What’s wrong?” He asked, mildly concerned, she looked quite disgruntled.

“Stephen!” She said in a scolding tone, “You didn’t tell me you were familiar with Tony Stark.” She exclaimed, and Stephen gave her a flat look.

“I’m not.” He declared quite quickly, and got a questioning look in response.

“Well- I was just speaking to him.” She said, and Stephen felt his stomach flip. “He’s been telling people he’s with you.” Stephen stared down at her- could he pretend he didn’t know? Probably not. Stephen’s mind returned to the texts from this morning and he groaned to himself.

_What the hell?_

“You said- Tony Stark?” He asked, voice innocent. She nodded. “Yes- I’m sorry.” He laughed with a slightly bitter undertone. “He’s with me. In fact- I was just looking for him. Where was he?”

“Uhm..” Anne spun around, surveying the huge room- before pointing over to a rather large group of people- Stephen narrowed his eyes, straining to see.

_Maybe she was mistaken?_

But no- Stephen spotted him, a wide smile on his lips as he spoke happily to the group of attention seeking men and women- no doubt thirsting for some sort of status. Tony Stark was the young rich CEO of the most well known industry in the U.S.

Stephen stalked over to the group and pushed through a few overly dressed women. When he got close enough, he closed a hand around Tony’s arm, dragging him to turn and face him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Stephen growled, they were close enough together that no one else could hear Stephen’s clearly bothered tone of voice.

“Wow- it’s good to see you too.” Tony said with a wide smile, taking Stephen’s grip on his arm as an invite to take Stephen’s other hand in his own. “I said I was swinging by.”

“No- you said you were going to Afghanistan. Go to Afghanistan.” Stephen responded but Tony just shrugged his shoulders, fiddling with Stephen’s fingers as he smiled up at him.

“Can a man not visit his buddy?” Tony asked.

“We aren’t buddies.”

“Harsh.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.” Stephen said with a smile of his own, yanking his hand out of Tony’s.

“I’m getting a huge sense of deja vu right now.” Tony blinked and Stephen rolled his eyes and pulled Tony further away from his crowd of fans. Tony bid them all farewell- claiming that Stephen needed him _urgently._

Stephen tried not to visibly flinch.

“How did you even find out about this?” Stephen asked, spinning around to face Tony once they were a good distance away. Tony’s instant reaction was to slide an arm around Stephen’s waist- who blinked at him owlishly.

“What are you-”

“Dancing, duh.” Tony cut him off, stepping forward, forcing Stephen to step backwards.

“I’m not dancing with you.” Stephen said, but was drug to the side, then forward, back, side- and so on. He couldn’t step away- and Stephen wanted to die on the spot.

“This seems like dancing to me.” Tony said with a grin, somehow managing to lace their hands together. Stephen squeezed Tony’s hand harder than necessary to try and cause the man some sort of discomfort.

“I hate you.”

“Sweet.” Tony said with a grin. “Anyways- what am I doing here? I told you! I’m going to Afghanistan, in fact I’ll be there this time tomorrow- partying after showing off the coolest new invention of mine.”

“Really?” Stephen asked in a mocking tone that Tony didn’t seem to pick up on.

“Yes, it’s super cool. Genius in fact.”

“So- you’ve developed something that what- doesn’t kill people?” Stephen asked, and Tony’s brow furrowed.

“That defeats the purpose of ‘weapon’.” He answered and Stephen sighed.

“I couldn’t care any less about your new way to do harm.” Stephen said- and for a moment thought he saw a spark of hurt in Tony’s expression, but it was quickly covered up by another wide smile. “How about you answer my other question.”

“How did I get here? It was easy.” Tony said, “You said you were going to a party- and just because we ditched your buddies for cheeseburgers doesn’t mean I didn’t keep in touch.”

“What- you text George?” Stephen asked, and Tony just smiled. “That’s weird.”

“You’re weird.” Tony replied. “Speaking of- have I told you how great you look?”

“I don’t text your friends.” Stephen answered with a wrinkled nose. “Your attempt at wooing is ridiculous.”

“Is it working?” Tony asked.

“No.” Stephen said, voice flat. “In fact it’s quite repulsive.”

“Damn.” Tony said with a sigh. “And yet you’ve succumbed to the dancing.” A smile spread across the billionaire's face, and Stephen had to resist the urge to slap him. He couldn’t recall when he had rested his arm over Tony’s shoulder- but it had happened at some point during their bickering. He simply looked up at the ceiling and shook his head- sighing to himself.

“That’s just because I’d rather not be forced to explain to everyone why a stupid American is here claiming to be my plus one.” Stephen growled, and Tony laughed, but didn’t respond.

They lapsed into silence, Stephen glanced around the room and let Tony guide the rather sloppy dance they were doing- a waltz was the closest thing Stephen could think of. There were a few people watching them- which made Stephen rather unhappy. One of those people watching was Anne- who would no doubt pin him down and interrogate him to no end.

_All thanks to this douche bag._

“Hey- do that thing.” Tony said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Stephen asked, nose scrunching.

“The song.” Tony said, “what’s playing?” Stephen sighed and strained to listen over the rather loud chattering around the room- the music wasn’t very loud. But when he was able to pick out a few words, Stephen identified the song with a pleasant smile, it was one he actually enjoyed.

“Moonshadow by Cat Stevens. Released in 1971.” Stephen said, and Tony simply hummed in response. Which- Stephen appreciated, he listened to the song and continued to stare over Tony’s shoulder at the rest of the room. This lasted for another full minute until his attention was drawn elsewhere- spotting a young girl sitting not far off, Stephen stopped moving.

She was in her PJs- and perched on the wide, quite beautiful set of stairs that lead up to the second floor- which was off limits to guests. She looked uncertain, and lonely. A sick feeling of familiarity coursed through Stephen’s veins.

“Stephen?” Tony asked when he noticed his dance buddy had stopped moving.

“Excuse me for a minute.” Stephen said, pulling himself away from Tony and stepping around him to slowly approach the little girl he quickly realized was likely Belinda- Bridget’s little girl. Once he got close, he knelt down beside her, offering a warm smile.

“What’re you doing up, sweetheart?” He asked, and she looked at him a little wearily.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She said, “Mummy said only adults are allowed downstairs.”

“Want me to smuggle you in?” Stephen asked with a grin and she seemed to contemplate it for a moment before shaking her head no.

“Mummy would be mad.” She answered.

 _All the more reason then?_ Stephen thought to himself. But nodded at her.

“What do you usually do to get to sleep?” Stephen asked, and Belinda seemed to contemplate that for a moment.

“I like stories.” She said with a smile.

“Want me to read you a story then?” He asked, and her eyes lit up immediately.

“That would be nice.” She answered with a smile and stood, sticking out a hand for Stephen to shake. “I’m Belinda.”

“Stephen.” Stephen answered, shaking her hand. “Why don’t you go pick your favorite story, and bring it right here?” Stephen asked, he didn’t want to go upstairs- the last thing he needed was Bridget being mad at him for breaking basically the only rule this party actually had.

Belinda nodded and quickly ran up the stairs. Stephen smiled and lowered himself onto the stairs, leaning against the wall and letting his legs stretch out with a long sigh. When he looked up to scan the room, he found Tony standing where he had left him, staring at Stephen with the slightest of smiles. It was perhaps one of the more genuine ones he’d seen of the man- and it made Stephen shift a bit uneasily where he sat.

Belinda’s return pulled Stephen’s attention away from Tony, he smiled down at the girl when she sat directly beside him, handing over a thin green book that Stephen recognized instantly. His heart clenched at the sight- a sad smile spreading across his lips.

“You know.” He said, staring down at the cover. “This was my little sister’s favorite book.” He said, and Belinda perked up, she slid her arms around Stephen’s left arm as he flipped open the book in order to scoot as close as she could to him to see the pictures. He was sure to draw his knees up closer to him so he could rest the book against his legs. Drawing in a breath, he began to read in a manner quite similar to when he read to Donna.

“Once, there was a tree…” He read, “And she loved a little boy….”

As he read, Stephen tried his best not to stumble over the words- fond memories of reading for his two younger siblings surfaced as he flipped through the many pages of The Giving Tree, a book Stephen probably knew by heart at this point.

As he read, the weight at his side grew heavier and heavier until Stephen finally finished- and looked over to see Belinda was sound asleep at his side, her head resting happily against his arm. He smiled down at her and gently closed the book, setting it down beside him. He sat there in silence- unwilling to move her. Instead he stared out at the few people still lingering in the huge room- he was vaguely aware that fireworks would be starting soon, so everyone had gone outside. Something Stephen was grateful for.

“You’re just the whole package aren’t you?”

Stephen nearly jumped out of his skin, his head shot up and he looked to the side- where he was greeted by a wide smile and brown eyes that were the color of honey- he scowled.

“You scared me.” He snapped quietly at Tony, who slowly sank down to sit on the steps just below Stephen- using Stephen’s legs as a place to rest his arms. “She could have woken up.”

“If you keep squirming she’ll totally wake up.” Tony pointed out, and Stephen froze, glaring at Tony. “But seriously- the reading? That’s just adorable.”

“The chances of me blocking your number are very high right now.” Stephen said and Tony’s lips pulled into a pout.

“You wouldn’t- we’ve gotten so close over the last seven years.” Tony said with a slight whine to his voice and Stephen sighed.

“You sending me play by play of your days do not create friendship.” Stephen said, voice hushed so he wouldn’t wake Belinda.

“Please, you know you enjoy my daily life.”

“Hearing about your shaving techniques really aren’t the highlight of my days.”

“Oh- but you do remember them?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows at Stephen, who rolled his eyes. “You should grow a beard- you’d rock it.”

“No thanks.” Stephen tried not to shiver at the idea.

They continued like this for some time until- much to Stephen’s relief, Bridget came inside and spotted them. Her eyes widened at the sight of Belinda latched to Stephen’s arm. She quickly walked over- voice quiet.

“I’m so sorry, she should be in bed.” Bridget began right away but Stephen shook his head.

“It’s no problem Bridget, she just wanted a story- and I was glad to read her one.” He explained, lifting the book. Bridget smiled, and reached for the book. She then looked down at Belinda and back to Stephen.

“Could you perhaps-?” She asked, gesturing to Belinda. He nodded- and carefully stood up, scooping Belinda up into his arms. Tony got up and out of his way- much to his relief. Stephen followed Bridget up the stairs, and helped her tuck Belinda into her room. They left together, and Bridget stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Stephen.” She said, turning to him. He paused his steps and regarded.

“Yes, Bridget?” He asked, and she looked up at him with wide eyes- and for the first time he really saw how afraid she was.

“I believe that I need to leave.” She said after a moment. “I’m no fool, I know what people have been saying all night long.”

“About Sonny.” Stephen said- not as a question. She simply nodded, hands shaking. Stephen reached for her hands- taking them in his. His actions surprised him- normally he wasn’t the type to enjoy contact with others. Bridget knew that. She smiled at him, and pulled Stephen into a bone crushing hug.

“Do what you think is right, Bridget.” Stephen said. “But remember your daughter. Do what’s best for her.” Bridget nodded against his shoulder- and he heard a faint sniffle. He could feel her shaking in his arms, and he offered a comforting pat.

They only broke apart when there was a slight commotion from downstairs. Bridget rubbed at her eyes and they both headed down the stairs to see a very disgruntled looking Nicholas at the bottom of the stairs. He spotted Stephen and basically broke down into tears of his own-

Today was just full of emotional roller coasters, wasn't it?

“Stephen, my dear. It’s George- I’m afraid he’s had a heart attack.” Nicholas said, voice full of worry. Stephen stared down at George with a mild feeling of shock.

He wasn’t sad- not really. He did love George, and wished him well. But part of him wasn’t surprised by this news. He was old, and said terrible things- but Stephen loved him. With a long sigh, he excused himself from Bridget, who ran back up the stairs- likely to pack a bag.

Stephen was proud of her- as long as she brought Belinda. Sonny really was quite intolerable, and any man who cheated on their spouse was repulsive. When Stephen reached the bottom of the stairs, Nicholas led him off to the side, rambling about how worried he was for George. Stephen simply listened, and offered a small amount of comfort to the old man.

Couldn’t have Nicholas going and having a heart attack as well.

“Stephen!” Anne Moore called to him yet again, a glass in her hand as she came right up to Stephens side.

“What is it now, Anne?” Stephen asked- why was everyone coming to him with their woes today?

“Princess Margret is talking to your friend.” Anne explained with urgency. “Mr. Stark.”

“Well, heaven help her.” Stephen said, rolling his eyes. Tony would probably annoy her to death- and based on the stories from dinner they couldn’t be a good combo at all. Honestly Stephen was sort of hoping that Tony would embarrass the woman- just as she had humiliated Jacques.

However, when Stephen looked in the direction Anne indicated, a frown pulled at his lips at how _pleasant_ Tony seemed.

The two shared a laugh, PM threw her head back and laughed into the air at something particularly funny that Tony had said and Stephen let out a huff of annoyance.

_Tony Stark was a kiss ass it seemed._

“She seems quite smitten.” Anne said.

“That’d be the scandal of the century.” Nicholas supplied- clearly not shook up enough about George to keep him from gossiping.

“But isn’t he with you, Stephen?” Anne asked, looking up at Stephen who balked at her, nose wrinkling.

“Certainly not how you’re thinking.” He replied, a little insulted. “That’s indecent.”

“Please- it’s 2008. A new age, as people say.” Anne said smoothly and Stephen shook his head at her in mild horror. A new age? It didn’t matter what year it was, nothing his father did could be justified to Stephen in any way. _Even if the circumstances are completely different._

Stephen was petty.

Petty protected him.

“We’re acquaintances at most.” Stephen said firmly, earning a puzzled look from both Anne and Nicholas. “What?”

“Nothing,” Anne said, smiling into her drink. “It’s just- you’ve always hated dancing.”

“So?”

“Nothing.”

Stephen scowled but let it go. He might have said more- but Johnny was approaching with a look of determination.

“Stephen, I’ve called a taxi, are you ready to go?” He asked, and Stephen shrugged his shoulders- yes, he really was. He wanted to return to the U.S and finish his medical degree. He wanted to leave England behind because it brought back terrible memories and was full of drama he couldn’t stomach. He didn’t care about who was sleeping with who nor did he really want to hear about who was cheating on who.

Opening his mouth to agree to leaving, Stephen was cut off when an arm looped around his own, the words he had been planning to speak died in his throat.

“I’ll drive him back.” Tony said to Johnny, who looked at Tony with a fair amount of suspicion. Stephen’s friend turned to him and gave him a look that screamed _is this guy giving you are hard time?_

Stephen just shrugged.

“Alright then, I’ll give you a ring tomorrow- what time is your flight?” Johnny asked.

“One in the afternoon.” Stephen said with a sigh- sooner would be better.

“Alright, it was good to see you again, Stephen.” Johnny said, stepping forward and pulling Stephen into a hug. “Thank you for telling me what you did.” He said with a comforting pat to his back and Stephen simply nodded wordlessly until he pulled away.

“Travel safely, my friend.” Stephen said, and Johnny left- leaving Stephen with the wolves.

“A friend of yours?” Tony asked Stephen.

“Oh no, a complete stranger.” Stephen answered with mild sarcasm and Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’m just offended you didn’t tell me hugs were allowed.”

“Hug me and die.”

“That’s fair.” Tony said with a nod, “I hear there’s fireworks-?”

“Oh yes- I think they’ll be starting soon.” Anne spoke- Stephen almost forgot she was there. She was looking at Tony with a wide smile and Stephen felt himself shudder.

“I think I’ll be heading to the hospital.” Nicholas broke in. “I’d like to stay with George. Give Bridget my best- Stephen.” He said, giving Stephen a pat on the arm before scurrying out of the room.

“George had a heart attack?” Tony asked, eyes wide.

“He probably saw you and keeled over.” Stephen said with a smile and Tony’s mouth dropped open. They began heading outside.

“I can’t believe it.” Tony said.

“You killed George.” Stephen agreed solemnly.

“I killed George.”

“Honestly you two are ridiculous- he isn’t even dead.” Anne shook her head and left them once they got outside, Stephen stayed on the patio, leaning against one of the large columns, Tony joined him.

They stood there in silence for quite some time, Stephen stared up at the sky, waiting for it to light up with sparkly lights and smoke- nothing beats killing the environment for entertainment.

“I’m impressed you know.” Tony broke the silence, causing Stephen’s shoulders to sag- he looked over at the brunet who was staring at him with a wide smile.

“With?” Stephen asked.

“You.” Tony answered without hesitation- and Stephen was thrown a bit off guard. “I mean- I honestly thought you would last maybe another year after New York. But here you are- seven years later.” Tony said, gesturing at Stephen. “And- wow.”

“Wow?” Stephen asked again, eyes narrowed.

“You look good.” He explained.

“Flattering.” Stephen said, crossing his arms. “How kind of you to think I’d die. Your compliments need work.”

“What? That was totally flattering.” Tony whined. “It’s just- you looked bad. No offense.”

“I know.” Stephen said with a sigh, looking back up at the sky- where were the damn fireworks? “I didn’t think I’d make it this far either.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stephen nodded. “Considering I tried to kill myself that night.” Stephen said, then frowned at himself- why had he said that? Maybe he still hadn’t recovered from his feelings session with Johnny.

It wasn’t that big of a deal anyway, most people knew at this point.

However- when the silence stretched on, Stephen’s lips pulled into a deep frown and he looked over at Tony, who was staring at him. Stunned. Stephen shifted a little uncomfortably under his unyielding gaze and pursed his lips.

“What?” He asked, and jolted in surprise when Tony took a big step forward and pulled Stephen into perhaps the most sloppy hug in the world.

“What the fuck-?” Stephen snapped- wiggling his arms out from being pinned to his chest- which just gave Tony more room to squeeze the life out of him.

“Who tells someone that so casually Jesus Christ.” Tony eventually said, chin resting on Stephen’s shoulder. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry?” Stephen said, unsure, letting his arms hang at his sides.

“You should be!” Tony said. They stood like that for awhile longer until Stephen grew uncomfortable and lifted his arms to start prying Tony’s arms off of him- which, he did let go eventually.

“I’m pissed.” Tony said flatly, staring at Stephen who was mildly aware that the fireworks had started and he was missing them. “I texted you!”

“I know.” Stephen said. “Your timing was impeccable.”

Tony stared, silent. His eyes narrowing as he considered Stephen’s words- Stephen just smiled at him and Tony’s face melted into pure horror.

“I- texted you about throwing up, when you were trying to-?”

Stephen nodded.

“Well.” Tony sniffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m a hero.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” But it was too late- Tony was already looking quite proud of himself, standing there with a wide grin, he looked up at the fireworks- and didn’t say anything else for the rest of the show.

  
The evening was coming to a close- people were leaving, and the reason for it was not an end to the festivities nor a lack of alcohol. Once people saw Bridget, Belinda and Virginia climbing into a cab, the party seemed to lose all momentum. Sonny had shut himself away in his study- and the musicians were packing up.

Which- drew Stephen’s attention. He had thought he’d seen a familiar face, but was unsure.

“Excuse me?” Stephen asked, approaching a middle aged man who was packing up a rather beautiful guitar. Tony was close by- on the phone with a driver. The man turned around and looked at Stephen with a tight smile.

“Hello.” He greeted.

“I knew a Chilly Willy- a few years ago.” Stephen said explained, shuffling on his feet. The man- who had been introduced as Chilly on stage, the man nodded at Stephen.

“What did he do?” He asked, and Stephen felt even more awkward than before- he really hoped this was who he thought it was.

“Well he- he sold.” Stephen explained, and Chilly nodded with a serious look on his face.

“In New York?” He asked, and Stephen felt a wave of relief. He nodded. “Yeah- I think I remember you. You were the guy with the big coat- right?” Chilly asked, and Stephen nodded again.

“Yes that was me.” He confirmed.

“Shit man, you look good. I remember you looking like a walking corpse.” Chilly said, closing the trunk of his car.

“Yes- I recall. But you- you look amazing as well. How is your wife?” He asked.

“She OD’d.” Chilly answered, and Stephen’s heart fell.

“Oh- I’m sorry.” He said, looking down.

“It’s alright- kinda got me realizing I had to get outta there.” Chilly explained. “Shit happens.”

“Cars coming- hi there!” Tony came up from behind, standing beside Stephen- and for once Stephen was grateful for his presence. Because for once- Stephen didn’t know what to say. “You were part of the band right?”

“Yeah-” Chilly nodded, looking quite amused at Tony, he had a wide smile on his face and Stephen looked between them as they continued to chat- Tony complimented his playing and rambled about his preference for rock rather than jazz.

It was then that Stephen wondered why Tony could so easily make people smile. No matter who he spoke to- they were always laughing. Even Stephens mood had lifted after speaking to Tony- a complete stranger- all those years ago.

Stephen on the other hand- had the opposite effect on people. Tony’s natural ability to make others so happy- well it made him jealous. Stephen was not a social butterfly and often made people feel bad about themselves-

_Now really wasn’t the time to be having a pity party._

“Stephen? You in there?” Tony asked, fingers snapping in front of his face- Stephen blinked and smacked Tony’s hand away, looking over in mild confusion.

“Finally, you were liked, stone cold zoned out.” Tony said with a huff. “Cars here- you ready to scoot?” He asked. Stephen glanced around to find Chilly was gone- when had that happened?

“I guess.” He said. Tony gestured towards the small black car parked a few feet away, pushing Stephen towards it with perhaps a little to much enthusiasm. Stephen simply watched as Tony pulled open the back door and gestured for Stephen to climb in- which, he simply frowned at and shoved Tony forward to get in first.

“Pushy-” Tony squawked as he stumbled into the back seat of the car, scooting over when Stephen followed after him.

“You’ve got a shit ton of explaining to do, Tony.”

“Nice to see you too darling.” Tony was already leaning forward, chatting with the person in the passenger seat by the time Stephen pulled the door closed- Stephen felt a wave of panic at the fact that the man was dressed in military clothes- and looking quite unhappy.

“Where the fuck are we?” The man snapped, turning in his seat to look at Tony- he seemed mildly surprised by Stephen’s presence. “Who’s this?”

“My friend.” Tony smiled. “Come on Rhodey lighten up.” Tony said at the unimpressed look he received.

“Lighten up? One moment we’re on a jet flying to Afghanistan- the next, I wake up, landed in fucking _England_ , and you’re missing!” The man- ‘Rhodey’ snapped and Tony let out a long dramatic groan, flopping back in his seat.

“I told you we were making a pit stop, you just forgot.” Tony said.

“You told me no such thing!”

“Not my fault you’re a horrible drunk!”

“You got me drunk on purpose!”

“Only because you’re such a stick in the mud. How else was I meant to visit my dear buddy Stephen?” Tony asked, leaning towards Stephen who shoved him back into his own seat.

“I live in New York. A much shorter distance than _England_.” Stephen quipped. “Don’t bring me into your spat.”

“Spat?” Tony smiled at him. “Your accent is so amazing.”

“Tony, I swear to god, I’m going to kill you one of these days.” Rhodey growled from the front seat and Tony just laughed.

The two continued to bicker for quite some time- and Stephen just remained silent even as the car began to drive- he wasn’t sure where they were going. Nor did he recall telling Tony where he was staying- but the car obviously had a destination in mind. He simply clicked his seat belt into place and gazed out the window- letting the faint sound of bickering lull him.

“Stephen, hey. Want to come to Afghanistan?” Tony asked suddenly, and Stephen looked at him and offered a bemused smile.

“Oh course Tony, why wouldn’t I want to go to Afghanistan?” Stephen asked, tone dripping with sarcasm. Tony just smiled at him, making Stephen’s smile slowly slip off his face.

“Good- because we’re headed for the airport now. I knew you’d be game.”

“I’m sorry- _what_?” Stephen asked, sitting up straight in his seat.

“Turns out it takes eight and a half hours to fly from here to Kabul and it’s-” Tony paused, checking his watch. “Close to twelve thirty in the morning.”

“So?” Stephen asked, voice coming out a little higher than normal.

“So- my presentation is at six am. Cutting it close am I right?” Tony said with a long laugh that died when he looked at Stephen’s murderous gaze.

“I’m not going to Afghanistan with you.” Stephen said through clenched teeth. Cutting it close? That was being late to a T.

“Don’t worry- I’ll have you taken to the hotel when we get there, once I’m done with the meeting- we’ll have lunch, lounge, and fly back!” Tony said with a building smile.

“I have- nothing.” Stephen explained with no patience. “Just leave me at the airport- and I’ll find a way home.”

“That’s so rude though. Besides- gives us time to hang out.” Tony replied, waving off Stephen’s request. “Plus I can buy you whatever you need- PJs? Done. Or you know- if you sleep na-”

“Why would you offer to take me home if you knew this?!” Stephen asked, quickly cutting off whatever it was Tony was about to say, waving his hands around.

“I didn’t-” Tony said. “Well, I’ve flown to Afghanistan before but it’s been awhile. Times just- blend together. You know how it is.”

“No. I don’t.” Stephen growled. “I can’t believe this.”

Tony continued to speak but Stephen tuned him out. He sat back in his seat- sinking lower into the leather, hoping it would swallow him whole in that very moment. Why did he shrug? He should have let Johnny take him home, _why hadn’t he?_

Stephen hated travel almost as much as he hated London. Plus- he didn’t know Tony Stark all that well, and now he was stuck with him. Why did this type of stuff always happen to him? What had he done to deserve it?

At some point in the middle of his self pity, the car pulled to a stop at the curb of a large, private airfield that had Stephen sweating in nervousness- now it made sense why he couldn’t just hail a taxi. This was a Private Airport.

_Fuck the rich, honestly._

“Come on Stephanie.” Tony cooed, climbing out of the car on his side and rounding it to pop open Stephen’s door- he simply sat there and glared at Tony.

“Can’t I just use this car to drive home?”

“Nope.” Tony said, popping the “p’

“I hate you.”

“Well- I love you.” Tony answered with a grin and Stephen pulled his seat belt off and climbed out of the car- although he did so in the most childish, temper tantrum-like way possible. Standing outside of the car with his arms crossed and his lips pulled into a tight frown. Tony winked at him as he had a brief conversation with his friend- who was ushering Tony along like one would herd a cow into a pen.

Stephen followed quite reluctantly- the entire experience was quite the blur until he was seated in a terribly comfortable seat on a private jet- Stephen kept his mouth shut the entire time, trying to make his anger known through silence. Tony sat across from him and used Stephen’s seat as a footrest- but that ended quickly when Stephen kicked Tony’s legs away.

“Jesus Christ-” Tony whined, grabbing his shin. “That’s the most aggressive footsie I’ve ever played.”

“Fuck you.”

“Maybe later?”

“Die.”

Stephen- because he was petty enough, stretched his legs out- which were much longer than Tony’s, and used the outside armrest of the man’s chair as a place to rest his feet. Tony glared at him and Stephen simply smirked, daring him to challenge.

The man that Stephen eventually learned to be Colonel James Rhodes sat in the seats across the aisle from Stephen and Tony- and looked just as irritated as Stephen felt. He sank lower into his seat and pulled out his phone- they hadn’t taken off yet so but even if they had he wouldn’t feel bad.

 **S.M:** Christine, I’ve been kidnapped.

 **C.P** : By?

 **S.M:** A maniac.

 **C.P:** Stephen it’s seven pm- I’m busy.

 **S.M:** With what????

 **C.P** : A date. Call me when you’re released.

Stephen stared at his phone in mild annoyance- he stuffed the device into his pocket and proceeded to pout- he glared at Tony who was fiddling with his own phone and sank even lower into his seat- at least trying to make himself semi comfortable.

He was tired- so maybe this was a good chance to sleep. Taking a deep breath, Stephen stared at Tony for a few more minutes, until finally letting his eyes slip closed, and drifted off into a deep sleep, the turbulence only lulling him deeper into his dreams.

When Stephen woke up, it was by the endless ringing of his cell phone- and the harsh light of the sun. He cracked his eyes open and they stung at the rays shining through a large window off to his left. It took a moment for him to figure out where he was- soft sheets were tangled around his legs and the pillows under his head were probably the softest things he’d ever touched- but as nice as they were. He was still mildly disturbed.

Reaching for his phone through his delirium, Stephen flipped it open and pressed it to his ear, letting out a groggy “Hello?”

“Stephen? I’ve been trying to call you forever!” Johnny Hall cried through the phone, loud enough to cause Stephen to flinch, he rolled over and stared at the white ceiling, brows furrowed.

“What time is it?” He asked.

“Ten in the morning- are you alright?” Johnny asked, and Stephen groaned.

“I’m not sure.” He answered, sitting up and looking around the room- it was big, and Stephen easily put together that it was a hotel suite. Then- things started coming back to him.

_Afghanistan, right._

“You said ten?” He asked, that means it was what-? He pulled his phone away from his ear at looked at the time. It was One in the afternoon. “Johnny?” He called, pushing the phone back against his ear.

“Yes?”

“I’m in Afghanistan.”

“....Come again?” Johnny said after a beat of silence.

“I’m very tired.”

“Okay…” Johnny sighed. “Why?”

“I have no idea.” Stephen admitted- why was he in Afghanistan? Because he’s friends with an idiot. Unwillingly.

“Well, are you alright?” Johnny asked.

“I think so.” Stephen said with a sigh, he shuffled and swung his legs over the edge of the bed- mildly annoyed that he didn’t have any pants on- but his boxers were still in place, along with his dress shirt which was now probably ruined.

_Wonderful._

“Listen, Johnny- I need to make a quick call, I’ll call you back in a minute.” He explained, yawning and rubbing at his eyes.

“Alright, bye for now.”

“Bye.” Stephen pulled his phone away from his ear and hung up, quickly pulling up Tony’s number and dialing, he pressed the phone to his ear and waited, each ring making him more and more annoyed as he stood up, shuffling towards the window to peer outside.

 _“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable, please try again later or leave a message after the tone.”_ Stephen growled and hung up, opening up his messages and typing rapidly.

 **S.M:** Answer your goddamn phone before I rack up the biggest hotel bill you’ve ever seen.

He then tried the number again, shuffling to the end of the bed and grabbing the TV remote that was perched beside a screen that was way too big to be legal- he flopped down on the edge of the bed and clicked the TV on, his phone going to voicemail again.

 **S.M:** Pick. Up. Your. Phone. Tony.

He growled at the text and dialed again, pressing his phone to his ear with more force- as if his urgency would bleed through the phone. His eyes were drawn to the TV, which was suddenly flashing with red letters- even in a different language Stephen knew the signs of a Breaking News message. He watched- listening to the ringing, and frowned at the images being shown. He clicked on the subtitles- and his arm grew heavy at the words scrolling across the screen.

_Tony Stark: dead?_

He was sent to voicemail, and Stephen tried again.

  
“Hold on- I just need to know. How the fuck does something like this happen?” Stephen demanded, standing behind Colonel James Rhodes as the man spoke to the Jet pilot- trying to get Stephen home. Not that Stephen was interested in that at the moment.

“It happens every day Mr. Melrose.” James answered, voice strained- Stephen could tell he hadn’t slept since yesterday.

“Does it?” Stephen asked, shaking his head. “I was under the impression this was just a normal- stupid thing that he did all the time.”

“Mr. Melrose-”

“Would you stop being so professional- I listened to you argue with that asshole for nine fucking hours-”

“-please calm down.”

“He’s your friend isn’t he?” Stephen demanded, James turned to face him, and Stephen deflated at the mans defeated look. “You don’t really believe he’s dead- do you?”

“I don’t know what to think, Mr. Melrose.” James answered. “All I know is that he’s missing- and based on what I saw.” He shook his head, and Stephen felt his heart clench.

Why did he care so much? He was nothing but bothered by Tony for a majority of the time. But yet the idea of him being dead- was painful.

“Please- go home.” James said, leading Stephen through the airport. “Let me do my job.”

Let him do his job, right. Stephen nodded. He’d find Tony- because he wasn’t dead. His friend was alive- and Stephen would receive annoying texts from him again.

He wasn’t dead.

  
“Stephen? Are you there?” Christine waved a hand in front of Stephen’s face, and he blinked back to reality- he looked up at his friend, who was perched across from him in a small coffee shop. Text books covered the space between them, and Stephen nodded, smiling.

“Sorry. Lost in thought.” He supplied. She smiled back and nodded. Stephen looked back down at his book- trying to force himself to focus.

A month had passed. Stephen had been flown back to London- where he stayed only for a few more days before traveling back to New York in the company of Anne Moore. The woman unfortunately heard the news- _who hadn’t?-_ and gave her condolences several times over to Stephen, who simply kept quiet.

The last few weeks had passed by slowly- and Stephen had honestly lost track of the days. It became normal for him to check his phone and the news every time he had the chance. He’d wake up and deflate at seeing the familiar T.S missing from his text log.

But he tried to continue normally, study- drink tea, and focus on staying clean.

Which was- strangely, much harder.

  
Two months passed and Stephen was beginning to lose faith that Tony Stark- his buddy- was alive. He had come close to deleting the man’s contact from his phone on several occasions, but ended up quitting halfway through.

Surprisingly- James Rhodes had gotten in touch with him a few times, although never with good news. Stephen wasn’t sure why the man bothered with him. Had Tony really talked about Stephen all that much?

Stephen sighed, staring down at his phone where he sat in his small New York apartment- and against better judgement, slowly typed out a message.

 **S.M:** You better be alive, douche bag.

  
Stephen was sitting in the middle of a lecture when his phone vibrated in his pocket- Christine was beside him- paying much more attention than he had been. The class was basically pointless to him, he had known it all- but was a credit requirement, much to Stephen's dismay. He shifted in his seat, and reached for his phone- but Christine pulled it from his hands with a frown- and he glared at her.

“Pay attention.” She whispered, and Stephen rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat.

Three months.

And Stephen had officially decided to forget. Because hope- he had decided long ago- was a pointless emotion. And happiness along with it. Why bother when there were much more interesting things to feel- like anger, rage, jealousy, disgust and so forth. They were much more invigorating- and never eluded him like happiness did.

Three months was how long it took Stephen to give up.

By the time the class ended, Stephen was ready to fall asleep. Christine closed her laptop and shoved his phone over to him with a smile. He simply stretched and tucked away the single paper and pencil he had taken out- not having actually write anything. He’d remember- which bothered Christine. She always got jealous by his memory.

“Come on, let’s get lunch.” She said, standing up. Stephen nodded and grabbed his phone, flipping it open expecting a message from Johnny- but instead, he froze.

“Stephen?” Christine called to him, but her voice faded into nothing but a faint ringing in his ears.

 **T.S:** Stop crying, I’m fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned:
> 
> Rock is My Life, This Is My Song - Bachman-Turner Overdrive  
> Moonshadow - Cat Stevens
> 
> Also: I made some edits and totally deleted someone's comment on accident- which I'm so sorry about!!! I love you!!


	3. 2009 - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never Mind - Iron Man 2 part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About halfway through this chapter I realized that 2009 was way too long to include everything I wanted to include. So 83 pages later, I've decided to post this as the first half. Originally I was going to cover all of 2009 (Iron Man 2) In one go. But I barely even got through the beginning, but! I felt that the chapter had come to a close. so, the next half of 2009 will be completed in the next chapter, and this work is now a chapter longer than intended. But hey! I'm still excited.
> 
> I apologize for how long this took to crank out! I just really wanted it to be perfect. There were a lot of moments in this chapter that are quite a big deal for what I have planned later in this series. There are parts I'm a little iffy about, but I've spent so long on them that I figure- enough is enough. Just move on! It's good enough.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this portion. I put a lot of time into it. There are a lot of serious and corny moments in this chapter that make me happy. Let me know what you think in the comments! Feel free to offer friendly criticism or just point out anything you liked. Even just a one word comment really makes my day. I read and will respond to every single one. Have a wonderful day!

Over the next year, Tony Stark was everything.

The media exploded the moment he was found and announced that Stark Industries would no longer take part in weapons manufacturing. The news was surprising, even to Stephen. He had mentioned his distaste for Tony’s work once before and the man seemed hurt by it, he’d never imagine someone so obviously prideful would shut down such a huge operation.

Although as the story evolved, Stephen understood why Tony did what he did. News stories of his capture were quickly turned into a horror story that Stephen didn’t bother reading because he knew only an ounce of it would be true. And yet- he was too afraid to ask Tony about his experience, because he was clearly changed, and Stephen could see that.

In the two times Stephen saw Tony in that year, he knew that Tony Stark was no longer that same prideful, playboy that he had been acquainted with. Although, Stephen had to wonder if Tony ever really was that man. Hadn’t he always been kind to Stephen?

The first time Tony appeared, Stephen knew before he even set foot in his apartment in New York. Outside was a flock of people with flashing cameras and cell phones. He almost didn’t want to attempt to get inside. Confusion had struck him at first until he saw the Audi R8 parked right outside.

This was a single week after Afghanistan. A week after Stephen receive that text that simultaneously relaxed and enraged him.

What Stephen found inside his apartment was not the same man who had been confident, cocky and over sexualilzing everything. Instead, he opened his door to find Tony Stark, sleep deprived, small, and sitting on his couch watching some stupid soap opera drama on TV.

For the first time, Stephen felt sorry for someone that wasn’t himself.

Not many words were said. Stephen made Smoked Haddock Chowder. A soup he’d had quite often growing up- and fit with the cold February weather. Despite the fact that it was nearly March, snow was still falling every so often, the temperature outside never raising above the mid forties.

Stephen let Tony have his bed, and slept on the couch. When he woke the next morning, Tony was gone. The only evidence he had been there being the used coffee mug sat beside and empty espresso machine.

The second time Tony made an appearance was months later. Stephen had been busy with school, it was his final year needed for his MD and PhD. The PhD wasn’t planned- but Stephen had time and the ability, so he did it.

December twentieth at about ten in the evening, Stephen had been sitting at the small desk in his room, typing away at his computer. Music played quietly in the background as he worked. A loud, startling crash came from the main area of the apartment and sent Stephen into fight or flight mode- although he was really unable to make up his mind.

All fear turned into a mixture of worry and anger when he came out of his bedroom, lamp in hand, to find Tony Stark had landed on his balcony and fallen through the glass door that stood between him and Stephen’s apartment. The glass was everywhere, and the man himself was laying on Stephen’s floor- seemingly unconscious. Covering his body was- something Stephen couldn’t name.

“What the fuck…” Stephen had muttered to himself at the time, but forced himself to move. Unable to move the suit- which was beyond heavy- Stephen had to figure out how to pull it apart and get Tony out.

It took until three in the morning to do, and Tony still hadn’t woken up.

What Stephen found as he pulled Tony out of the suit, was a very badly bruised and slightly bleeding idiot.

That was the second time Tony stayed in Stephen’s bed, and much to Stephen’s hope, the last. He spent the rest of the night patching up small cuts that littered Tony’s body and face, nose wrinkling at the sheer amount of bruising he had.

That experience was the first time Stephen was grateful he had chosen medicine.

Tony left without really explaining anything to him after spending the next half day dead asleep in Stephen’s room. He promised to fix the broken window which Stephen had hung a blanket from to block at least some of the cold weather- it didn’t work so well when it snowed.

But, as he promised, the window was fixed a week later. Stephen didn’t mention it, but followed the news surrounding Tony closely, waiting for some sort of explanation for the suit- which Stephen still have a few pieces of littered about his living room floor.

It wasn’t until today, December thirtieth, that Stephen- along with the rest of the world- was told anything.

And Stephen couldn’t help but laugh at the stupidity of it.

 **S.M:** “I am Iron Man”

 **S.M:** Pillock.

 **T.S:** Firstly you’re just jealous, and “Pillock” what is that?

 **S.M:** Idiot.

 **T.S:** I know that but what does it _mean?_

“Mister Melrose.” A gravelly voice assaulted Stephen’s ears, dragging him back to the present day and forcing him to look up from his phone. He tucked it away and crossed his legs, leaning back in the small armchair that caused his back to ache uncomfortably.

A man entered the room and took a seat across from Stephen- looking quite homely and quite the opposite of someone Stephen would want to share his feelings with.

Which is sadly why he was here.

Being the top of your class in medical school did not mean Stephen could get a job. He had learned that quite recently- it would only be a few months until he was out of school and thus he needed a place to begin interning.

But everywhere he went- he was told no. It wasn’t easy for a past drug addict to get a job- let alone one that involved the safety of other people.

One look at his medical history, and the offers fell away. Only one remained, however it came with a deal that Stephen hated with quite the passion. Metro General Hospital of New York City desperately wanted Stephen- a man who would soon complete both his M.D and PhD in record time with little to no flaws. They wanted him enough to offer him a chance if he passed a mental health evaluation. A rare chance that Stephen needed.

Which had him quite nervous.

There was no telling how long it would take. Most people thought he was insane just passing him on the street and somehow Stephen knew this psychologist would have him coming in for years before giving him the OK.

What would he do until then? He wasn’t sure.  
  
“How are you today?” He asked, flipping open a rather large file that had Stephen’s stomach turning.

“Fine.” He answered flatly. Crossing his arms. He didn’t want to be here- not at all. But he had to. _There was no other way._

“That’s good.” The man said, “You’ve got quite the family history.” He went on and Stephen snorted.

“Unfortunately.”

“Why’s that?”

“Family.” Stephen shrugged, attempting to dismiss the topic as nothing. “They really are the worst, aren’t they?”

“Are they?” The man asked, jotting something down on a small notepad he seemed to pull out of thin air. Stephen narrowed his eyes and tried to ignore the annoying scribbles coming from the pen. Were all Psychologists like this?

“I think so.” Stephen said, leaning back further into the armchair- like it could swallow him up and keep him from this dreadful conversation. He hated this- talking. But he had to. _Don’t fuck this up._

“Have you ever seen a therapist before?” The man- Doctor Hill- asked. The standardness of the question had Stephen scoffing to himself.

“Yes.” He offered curtly, “Rehab.”

“But you didn’t complete any real evaluation?” He pressed.

“I was there to get clean not talk about my mummy.” He bit back with a hint of snark- flinching at his own stupidity. He wasn’t here to pick a fight- he needed to be friendly. Why was that so difficult?

“Why don’t you tell me about your family then?” The man asked, and Stephen shook his head.

“They aren’t a problem anymore, I assure you.” Stephen said- a lie, but one he needed to tell.

“Alright.” Dr. Hill said with another scribble to the notepad. “How’s your living situation then?” He asked- Stephen wrinkled his nose. Why was that important?

“Fine…” Stephen offered. “I have an apartment near Tenth avenue.”

“Hm.” Hill hummed and Stephen shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing at the pen working across the small notepad.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

“Not really but it’s better than a street corner.” Stephen supplied with a hint of snark- Hill smiled but it was clearly fake.

“Mr. Melrose- I can’t help you unless you tell me what it is you need help with.” The Doctor said, and Stephen nodded along with his words.

“I’m good.” Stephen said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Can’t you see that in your folder? I’m clean, did the whole rehab and recovery. I’m a working citizen- well, I could be if you’d just say I’m good to go.”

“And yet you can’t bring yourself to talk about anything. I can’t pass you without a clear understanding that you are indeed fit to have a medical licence.” Hill supplied. Then- “Do you have a job?” 

“No.” Stephen snapped- then sighed. No need to get testy. “That’s why I’m sitting here.”

“How are you paying for your apartment?” He asked and Stephen scowled- _what an asshole._

“My mother.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes, she is still kicking, believe it or not.” Stephen said with a long suffering sigh and sank impossibly lower into his chair. “Don’t get excited though- this is the one good thing she’s done for me since her birth.”

“Why is that?”

“That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard- why is that? Because she was an awful woman who shouldn’t have had children. And don’t think you’ve won- we’re done with her.” Stephen grumbled and Hill nodded slowly- but seemed way to smug about the situation.

“Did she treat you all poorly?”

Stephen looked down at his hands- palms resting face up on his thighs- eyes tracing the small scar down the palm of his right hand.

_‘I want to go.’_

Biting down on his cheek, Stephen pushed himself up and grabbed his jacket- disregarding the protests of Doctor Hill as he slipped out of the room without another word.

***

_“Vincent? Where on earth have you been? Your father has been calling for you.” Beverly Melrose, Stephen’s mother called as he approached the back of the estate- ground littered with untouched figs. Stephen ran up to his mother, grabbing the side of her bright yellow dress._

_“Can we play now?” He asked, his nine year old mind only focused on the simple things of life._

_“Not now.” Beverly answered, pulling on a pair of gloves as she walked towards the one of many cars._

_“But you said we could.” Stephen begged, tugging on her dress._

_“Darling, I’m sorry. I have to pick up Nicholas from the airport.” She said, pausing in her steps to look down at Stephen, offering a sad smile. “There’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”_

_“You promised!” Stephen shouted up at her, and she shook her head, walking back towards the car._

_“Au revoir! Je t’aime.” She called as she walked away, Stephen paused- mind processing the french before running up to her again._

_“Can I come with you?” He asked._

_“No! Your father wants you here with him.” Beverly said- steps faltering only slightly._

_“I’ll stay in the car, I won’t say a word.” Stephen begged, running to stand in front of his mother, who looked down at him with eyes full of sorrow. She bit her bottom lip and knelt down in front of Stephen, placing a hand on his shoulder._

_“I know it’s strange, but your father gets jealous. He thinks it’s very important that you’re not too dependent on me. You mustn't prefer my company to his.” She explained softly._

_“I do.” Stephen said in earnest._

_“Well, you mustn’t let on.” Beverly said with a sad smile. “Be very nice to Daddy, yes? And then you can come find me before dinner. Tell me about your day and I’ll tell you about mine. And I promise- I swear, you’ll have my full attention.” Beverly said, placing a soft kiss to Stephen’s forehead before getting into the overpriced car, and driving away._

_Stephen watched her fade into the distance- hands clenched tightly at his sides._

_“But you promised….” He whispered to no one, and felt an uneasy sense of dread overtake him as he turned to enter the place he reluctantly called home._

***

“I can’t fucking believe this.” Stephen growled as he and Christine Palmer walked down the cold streets of New York City- they were heading towards Central Park. Christine had agreed to lunch.

A date- of sorts. At least, that’s what Stephen hoped.

“Was it so bad?” Christine asked, and Stephen shook his head, running a hand through his hair uneasily. Was it so bad? Of course it was.

“Talking to a man who is paid to manipulate the truth out of you is not pleasant no.” He said with a sigh.

“If you just told him the truth outright it may be easier.” Christine said, voice flat. Stephen shook his head- a spark of anger bubbled up inside him because Christine didn’t understand- she didn’t know.

Which also meant it wasn’t fair to get upset with her.

“He’s incompetent.” He said after a beat, and Christine laughed. “Perhaps you could do it?”

“Please, I’d fail you.” She joked, and Stephen placed a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “Better than leading you on.” She cooed, and- for a moment, Stephen thought she meant something else.

“Christine-” Stephen said, pausing in his steps, she stopped as well, turning to him with a soft smile.

“I-”

_“Everything's all by the way, When I grow older, I will be there at your side to remind you How I still love you.”_

“Is that your phone?” Christine asked, a smile tugging at her lips, whatever Stephen was about to say had been cut off by the soft music playing from his back pocket. He couldn’t recall setting that to his ringtone, but it certainly was his phone.

“I- yes, I’m sorry. One second.” He said, tugging the small device out of his pocket and frowning at the name displayed on the glass screen- yes, _glass,_ he had finally upgraded to a semi-smart phone.

“What did you do to my phone?” Stephen growled into the phone, hearing a giggle from Christine.

“Oh! You like it? It’s set only to play when I call.” Tony chirped happily.

“Fix it- wait, how did you even do that?” Stephen asked, earning a maniacal laugh from the other end of the line.

“You’re talking to the most technology capable person on earth- I did it while you were in the bathroom.” Tony said, voice full of pride and Stephen was actually slightly _stunned._

“You-” He stuttered. “What the fuck?”

“I think you mean “thank you”.” Tony said. “I thought you’d like a Queen song, you strike me as the Queen type.”

“I do like Queen but that’s not the point.” Stephen huffed.

“Whatever. Anyways- I need your help.” Stephen didn’t respond, instead he stood there glaring at the grass- as if it had somehow offended him.

“Please?”

“With what?” Stephen asked.

“Many things, but this is urgent. I need you, asap. I’m stuck, in a bind, trapped.”

“You’re stuck-? So what, you want me to fly to California to un-stuck you?”

“First off, never say un-stuck again- and actually I’m in New York.” Tony answered with a grin. Stephen frowned, Tony rarely came to New York..

“Why?” Stephen asked, beginning to absently pace around the park.

“Do you ever turn on the TV?” Tony asked and Stephen rolled his eyes.

“I’d rather not turn on the telly just to see what new stupid thing you’re doing.” Stephen growled over the line- recalling the last six months of absolute idiocy he witnessed on both TV and via text. “I’m busy, Tony. Now isn’t a good time for your bullshit.”

“Mean- but fine. I’ll wait till your not busy.” Tony said. “Although it is quite urgent. Plus- Telly? I sometimes forget how adorably British you are.”

“How urgent is urgent?” Stephen asked, ignoring Tony’s comment. “I’m not helping you do anything stupid.” Stephen stressed the last word. Pretend Superhero or not, Tony Stark would not be getting him killed because of some stupid stunt.

“Very, so make it snappy. Where are you?”

“I’m….” Stephen looked up at Christine, who was now perched on a bench a few feet away, typing away on her own phone. “On a date.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.” Stephen agreed. “Oh. So you’ll be waiting a long time.”

“Okay.” Tony said- Stephen could hear a faint sigh. “Have fun. Use protec-”

Stephen hung up, stuffing his phone into his pocket and shaking his head. Christine was up and over to him the moment he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and smiled at him yet again- although for some reason Stephen found it a little less beautiful than before.

“Everything okay?” She asked, and Stephen nodded, watching her carefully.

“Ready to go?” He asked.

“Of course, I’m starving.” She answered, and they made their way across the park as Stephen tried not to worry. But somehow failed despite himself- his own thoughts seeping into his mind like a virus- not letting him focus on anything.

“Excited for graduating?” Christine asked, hooking her arm around Stephen’s, who hummed thoughtfully- although the answer was clear. Yes he was ready to graduate, be honored in front of thousands of people he didn’t know.

What could be better?

“Quite, I’m tired of being taught things I already know.” He said with a slight smirk- Christine rolled her eyes but laughed.

“Are you going to invite your friend?” She asked.

“Johnny? I would, but I doubt he’d be able to fly out here. I may ask anyway.” He thought aloud, thinking fondly of Johnny- he may just take the trip.

“You should invite Johnny.” Christine nodded, slipping into silence but only for a moment. “What about Stark?”

“No.” Stephen wrinkled his nose. “He’d ruin it.”

“Oh please,” Christine scoffed, “Don’t give me that broody denial.” She said, pinching his cheek between two fingers.

“What?” He asked- feeling a little scandalized as he waved her hand away.

“You like him.” He stated and Stephen scowled. “As a friend jeez. And he likes you- you just pretend not to like him because he’s flirty.”

“It’s annoying. How do you even know so much?”

“ _Please_ you’re always staring at your phone. I’m not an idiot Stephen.” She said and laughed at Stephen’s open mouthed gaping. “Besides, unlike you- I turn on my TV.” Stephen rolled his eyes. He really didn't need to be reminded of the rumors floating around due to Tony's non-subtle visits to his apartment.

“Don’t miss out on a friendship just because he’s forward.” She cooed and Stephen shook his head. “Besides- Tony Stark? Giving you of all people so much attention? You must be special.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He sighed.

“Why? Even I can’t deny that he's _quite_ handsome.”

“I have my reasons.” He said, lips pulling into a thin line to hide any emotions that may give away anything.

“They’re probably dull reasons.” Christine said with a laugh, but her glee faded when Stephen didn’t show any hint of amusement. “Steph-”

“I’ll invite him. So long as we change the subject.” He cut her off, she looked at him wearily, but eventually nodded.

***

_“Well, young man what have you been up to? I know you’re there.” Eugene Melrose paused in his piano playing when Stephen stepped on a poorly laid floor board just outside of the sitting room. Stephen bit down on his bottom lip, took a breath and stepped into the room- slowly._

_“Hello Mr. Master Man.” Eugene said with a smile that Stephen feared above all else. “Is everyone gone?” Stephen nodded. “Good.” He said with a smile, waving for Stephen to come closer._

_“Do you recognize this?” Eugene asked, gesturing to the piano, Stephen nodded._

_“You wrote it for me.” Stephen answered._

_“When I left Eton, my father asked me: “what do you want to do with your life?” I didn’t dare tell him I wanted to compose music. “I don’t know, sir,” I said.” Stephen’s father spoke, and Stephen listened with unwavering attention- afraid to miss a word._

_“What did he say?” Stephen asked after a beat of silence._

_“Better join the army.” Eugene replied, “What will you do with your life, I wonder?”_

_“I don’t know sir.” Stephen answered, and Eugene smiled at him, patting his legs, he stood up._

_“Now, shall I pick you up by your ears?” He asked and Stephen’s stomach dropped._

_“No.”_

_“Come here.” He said, ignoring Stephen, who did as he was told. Ready?” He asked, hands wrapping around Stephen’s ears- he quickly grabbed onto his father’s forearms to hold himself up and nodded, feet leaving the ground. At first- Stephen laughed, as his father was laughing as well._

_For a moment- however small, the game was enjoyable._

_Just for a moment._

_“Now let go.”_

_“No.”_

_“Let go and I’ll drop you, on the count of three. One…..Two ...”_

***

“Have you decided?” Stephen asked Christine, who was looking at the menu with a concentrated furrow. Her plump pink lips puckered in uncertainty.

“I’m not sure.” She said, bringing a hand up to tap her chin, a smile stretching across her lips as she glanced up at him from where they stood at the front of the line. “What would you recommend?”

“Well,” Stephen said as he eyed the overhead menu. “I hear the McNuggets are to die for.”

“McNuggets it is.” Christine said with a laugh- the cashier who seemed very unamused jammed the proper code for the nuggets into the register.

“And for you, sir?” They asked, voice dull and void of any proper emotion- Stephen wondered what went on in this poor souls head throughout the day. How many nugget jokes did they have to suffer through?

“A cheeseburger meal.” Stephen answered, he fished his wallet out from his trousers and pulled out one of the last twenties he had in his possession- he tried to not think about it as it was snatched from his slender fingers.

“I have to say Stephen.” Christine mused as they took their number and found an empty table. “When you offered lunch I was not expecting such a high end restaurant- you really know how to treat a girl.” She teased and Stephen smiled happily at her as they sat.

“Only the best-” Stephen began, freezing before the familiar phrase could leave his parted lips. _Or go without._

“Only the best.” Christine mused. Taking his pause as the end of his sentence. “Do you take all your hot dates out to Mcdonalds?” She asked and Stephen tried not to stumble over himself-

Did that mean she considered this a date?

“Oh of course.” He said with a mild cough, clearing his throat to swallow down that hint of embarrassment. “And it usually works perfectly.”

“Really?” Christine asked, propping her chin up on an open palm. “I’ve never seen such confidence- except for maybe when you asked me to do drugs with you.”

Stephen flinched- god, that was a memory he’d rather forget entirely. That whole night had been a disaster- thinking of it still increased his heart rate to dangerous levels.

“Yes…” Stephen said sadly. “I do apologize for that.”

“I’m just teasing you Stephen. There’s no need.” She explained, reaching across the table to drop a warm hand over his arm. “That was a long time ago and it was a hard time for you, considering your father had just-”

“That’s hardly an excuse.” Stephen quickly spoke up, cutting her off. “I can’t use my dear ol’ dad as an excuse for everything, though I do try.” Stephen said with a fond smile- however the words tasted like acid coming from his mouth.

A lie, he knew. Everything he did was in spite of Eugene Melrose, and when questioned- it was always him.

It would always be him.

Christine simply hummed in response, the food having been brought to them silenced any further conversation for quite some time. They sat happily eating- Stephen enjoying his cheeseburger perhaps a little too much.

The amount of them he had eaten in the last few years was probably not healthy.

However, it was one thing he could actually afford. His mother, as generous as she was to others, provided a low fund. She was busy doing god knows what with who knows, some idiotic guru or shaman, trying to discover the meaning of life through charts and other non-scientific concepts.

She was, all in all, a fool.

“Are you going to the Stark Expo?” Christine asked around her straw- Stephen internally groaned at the question.

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He responded with an unhappy frown pulling at his lips. “Why?”

“Well he is your friend after all-”

“Jesus Christ, why is Tony Stark always the center of our conversation?” He asked, stuffing the last bite of his burger in his mouth unhappily. Christine openly laughed at him- he probably looked like a pouting child.

“I’m sorry, Steph, it’s just- have you seen the news?” She asked, and Stephen rolled his eyes.

“Yes. I don’t live under a rock.”

“Who wouldn’t want to talk about that.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You’re just bored because you’re friends.” Christine quipped.

“We aren’t.” Stephen replied hastily. “Friends- we hardly know each other.”

“That’s a shame then.” Christine answered, stalling any snarky comment Stephen had prepared in his arsenal of wit. His breath seemed to leave him as Christine absently stirred around the ice in her pop. “It would be good for you, I think.” She went on. “You need more friends, it would make that dark rain cloud you seem to compare life to so much smaller.”

Stephen opened and closed his mouth- racking his brain for a response but came up dry. Instead, he looked down at his hands and began ripping at the wrapping the burger had come in, chewing softly at his bottom lip.

“I mean- you have me and, well that’s just about it.” Christine went on. “I can’t be your only friend Stephen- I guess what I mean is, you shouldn’t let yourself miss out on something amazing just because there’s a little arrogance holding you back-”

“It isn’t arrogance.” He cut in- surprising himself as he spoke softly- eyes still glued to the wrapping. “It’s fear.”

With watering eyes Stephen looked back up at Christine who had a thoughtful look on her face, he could tell she was searching him- trying to find the answers he had so carefully hidden away deep inside himself.

“What are you afraid of?” She finally asked, and Stephen shook his head.

“Everything…” He answered, voice coming out as a whisper.

***

  
_They burned, his ears- Stephen’s trembling hands covered them as he cowered in a small nook in the large yard of their estate. He knew deep down that his father wouldn’t let go, but he was stupid enough to trust him. Or did he simply let go out of fear?_

_He wasn’t sure anymore._

_Stephen sniffled lightly, rubbing at his watering eyes until they were red and sore from the pressure. He coughed lightly to himself and crawled out from under the bush he had been hiding in for the past few hours. Damp leaves stuck to his hands and dirt covered his trousers. His mother would surely scold him for getting dirty- but that didn’t matter now._

_Nothing really mattered now._

_Stephen absently wandered through the grounds of the estate, clutching a small wooden sword in his small hands- Yvette, the family maid had made it for him. He hid it out in the woods where he had forts, places that Eugene or Beverly would never find. Because if they did- they would surely ruin it._

_Stomping through the tall grass, Stephen eventually came to a familiar spot, a small clearing where an old, unused well sat. Vines covered the base of it- and added a sense of mystery to what secrets it contained. Stephen had always wondered, but never touched._

_Out of fear of what- he wasn’t sure._

_The twigs and branches crushed under his shoes as he slowly approached the covered well, he set his sword down beside it and with shaking hand, pushed the wooden cover far enough to see inside- and further still until it hung precariously on the side, Stephen stared down into the darkness- squinting as if that would let him see the bottom._

_As carefully as he could, he climbed up the side, standing slowly to prevent himself from slipping. But- wasn’t that what he was here for?_

_To slip?_

_A small voice in the back of his head cooed for him to do it, that if he simply took a step forward, he’d be safe. No more shouting, no more mothers who break their promises or fathers who hurt him._

_Biting down on his lip, Stephen shook his head and hopped down off of the well, back onto solid ground. He covered it once again- and without looking back, returned to the estate._

***

Stephen fumbled with the key to his apartment, his hands shook almost uncontrollably as thoughts of disappointment and failure consumed him- it was like he was stuck under water, only inches from the surface but unable to travel those last few centimeters to freedom.

He was going to drown, and no one would remember him.

“Christ.” He said to himself, finally jamming the key into the locked door. He yanked it open with little regard for anything else and stepped inside, dropping the box of leftover food onto the small kitchen counter.

The apartment was small, run down and a little claustrophobic. Nothing like the grand estate he was raised on- but that part was a blessing.

That home was no home- at least not in the sense most people considered.

“Home is where family is.” He muttered to himself. “What a load of garbage.”

Christine Palmer was the closest thing to real family Stephen had at this point- and the likelihood of her ever caring for him in the way he cared for her was microscopic.

He still believed she resented him for all those years ago- and he didn’t blame her in the least. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

Then of course there was Johnny- Nicholas even, and George. But they all lived in England. A place Stephen never wanted to return to. It held to many unpleasant memories.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and wobbled over to his couch, flopping down on the worn out fluffing with a grunt of mild pain as his long limbs draped unevenly over the sides. Stephen rolled haphazardly onto his back and loosened the tie from around his neck, then proceed to dig his phone out of his pocket.

The first message he had had him rolling his eyes.

 **T.S:** Use protection <3

Stephen ignored it. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and stood up despite the ache in his muscles- it had been a long day. Although he accomplished little. He knew with how he stormed out of the room- Doctor Hill would not be giving Stephen his medical license. Which ultimately meant that Stephen Melrose was screwed.

Wandering into his room, Stephen yanked on his wobbly wardrobe door until it popped open and gathered an armful of clothes- joggers, a T-shirt, a long blue robe he was quite fond of, and some underwear. He then meandered into the bathroom where he stood- staring between his shower and his bathtub- yes, he had both. It was the one good thing that this apartment had to offer.

After a brief moment of contemplation his sheer love of baths prevailed and he cranked the water on and clogged the drain. As he waited he shed his jacket and tie- slowly undoing the top few buttons of his dress shirt when a ping went off- part of him wanted to ignore it but..

_“Don’t miss out on something amazing.”_

With a deep sigh, Stephen fished his phone from his pocket and swiped the screen open.

 **T.S:** How’d that meeting go?

Stephen stared at the text for a good minute- trying to recall telling Tony about his Psych eval- no. He couldn’t recall telling him at all.

But it dawned on him he must have meant the meeting with the hospital from several days ago- weird for him to be asking now, however- Stephen answered him anyway.

 _For Christine_ , he told himself as he typed.

 **S.M:** Average. They question my mental stability which is looking quite bleak.

 **T.S:** Yikes. What’s the diagnosis?

Stephen snorted at the message- he paused to pull off his shirt before responding. He folded it carefully- however that careful folding was ruined when he tossed it to the side, aiming for the counter and missing altogether.

 **S.M:** A swift drowning.

Stephen tossed his phone to the side at that- he quickly shed his pants and turned off the tap- not before dumping way too much bubble bath mix into the boiling water. The result was- perhaps an overflow of bubbles.

But Stephen liked them- and there was no one around to judge him for it.

He waddled out into the living room in his boxers to grab the stereo he was very fond of, perhaps the one possession he had that was above fifty dollars in price.

Dropping the stereo on the edge of the tub Stephen pressed play and cooed- yes, _cooed,_ happily at the music that began to play. He shed his last bit of clothing and tentatively lowered himself into the tub- water scorched his skin with a harsh sting that quickly faded into a burn of pleasure.

One by one, he felt his muscles relax into the heat, the water was like a safe cocoon- a place where his worries were replaced by nothing but pure bliss.

_God he loved baths._

Air filled his lungs as Stephen parted his pale lips, he enjoyed the rush of air filtering between them as his lungs expanded with effort until he could no longer suck in any more air. The pressure from the air seemed to fill any gaps in his mind- every muscle in his body tensed as he held in the air, not letting it escape even when his lungs begged for air.

Three….

Two…..

And breathe.

He exhaled softly, slowly, relaxing every part of him until his limbs felt like nothing but jelly. It was then he realized just how exhausted he really was. His eyes slid closed as he sank down further into the tub- the water sloshed with the movement until slowly evening out to rest against his chin- his head was leaned back against the porcelain of the tub which was oddly comfortable despite how his long limbs were cramped into the tub. While it was quite wide- it wasn’t long enough for his height. He eventually shifted again to let one leg hang out over the edge while the other was wedged up against the other side of the tub.

Not ideal, but comfortable.

“To the wind of my soul…” Stephen murmured the words of the soft song playing through the stereo which was awkwardly balanced on the edge of the tub- probably a hazard, but he didn’t mind. “....where I end up ...only God really knows…” The lyrics he sang along with were random- choppy, his voice came out barely above a whisper.

He stayed that way- moderately happy. The soothing voice of Cat Stevens lulled him. And with the accompany of the hot water which he dared imagine to be a warm embrace- whose, he couldn’t say- Stephen fell asleep.

***

_Stephen kicked unhappily at the dusty ground that lay just outside the house. Figs littered the ground- they always did. No one in his family bothered to pick them- and when his mother had suggested it…_

_Well. It was a memory Stephen wasn’t fond of._

_He kicked one, vague images of his mother on all fours haunted him as he did. With his lips pressed into a firm line, Stephen reached down and grabbed one of the rotting figs- it squished unhappily between his chubby nine year old fingers. He didn’t mind the sensation- perhaps instead of a fig, he held a human heart- yes. That was a good idea._

_He had someone else's life in his hands, but who? His father? Although Stephen wasn’t so sure his father even had a heart and if it did- it wouldn’t be as fresh as this fig, it was moderately squishy and only had a few holes where bugs partook of the flesh. So his mother?_

_Yes. This was his mother’s heart. Stephen stared down at it, imagination running wild. A moment of contemplation took him over as he decided to gently set his mother's heart back down. She had already suffered enough- the fig rolled out his hands and sat limply on the ground- dirt stuck to the sides as it rolled ever so slightly._

_Stephen stared at it._

_And in one swift move, brought his shoe down on top of the unsuspecting fig- the resulting squish was both satisfying and disgusting. A rueful smile spread across his lips as his eyes scanned the ground for it- his father’s heart. It had to be amongst the rotting figs._

_And it was._

_Stephen spotted a particularly small, wrinkled fig a few feet away. He sped over to it and snatched it from the ground. He stood up straight, looked at the far wall and drew his hand back like a pitcher about to throw the best strike of their career-_

_“Don’t you dare!”_

_Stephen froze- his heart leapt into his throat and began to frantically beat out of control to the point of suffocating him. His eyes trailed up the side of the house until they paused on an open window- his father’s room._

_“Don’t you dare ever do that again!” Eugene shouted down at him and Stephen dropped the fig in a panic- what had he done?_

_“What have I done?” He asked in a weak voice, however his father just scowled down at him with an icy gaze._

_“Come up to my room.” Eugene snapped, walking away from the window- Stephen could still hear the sharp “Now!”_

_Dread filled him, his mind raced as he tentatively made his way inside. The giant house seemed darker than usual as Stephen’s shaking legs carried him across the creaking floorboards. He couldn’t think of anything- what had he done? Surely he had, otherwise this wouldn’t be happening to him._

_He’d just have to convince himself that something he did was wrong. It was his fault, whatever it was._

_Yes. It was always his fault._

_“Mercury. Venus. Earth. Mars. Jupiter. Saturn. Uranus. Pluto..” Stephen whispered to himself as he slowly walked up the stairs- he repeated the planets under his breath to calm himself- however how much it worked was unknown to him._

_He was still shaking._

_“...Saturn, Uranus, Pluto….”_

_“What have I done wrong?” Stephen asked when he came to a stop just outside the door- which sat like an open mouth filled with thousands of teeth- awaiting him to just step inside so it could consume him._

_“Come here.” Eugene snapped._

_“But what have I done wrong?” Stephen asked, stepping through the door. As he did, he felt as though he had suddenly sealed his fate. There was no going back now._

_Whatever would happen next would define the rest of his life._

_He feared what would happen next._

_“You know perfectly well. Closer.”_

_Stephen stepped closer- but stayed out of reach of his father. The man stared at him from where he sat at the edge of his bed. Hands rubbing his knees as he often did when he was angry or uneasy._

_“Do you know who king Shaka was?” He asked._

_“No.” Stephen replied, voice small._

_“King Shaka was a great and mighty Zulu warrior who made his troops stamp thorn bushes to the ground and march for days across hot jagged rocks. The soles of their feet were slashed and burned.” Eugeue explained happily. “And though there was resentment and pain at the time, the calluses this created meant that eventually nothing would harm them.”_

_“They would feel no pain.”_

_“And what had felt like cruelty at the time was actually a gift.”_

_“It was actually love.”_

_“I don’t expect you to thank me now but I hope perhaps when you’re older you’ll be grateful for the skill of detachment that I’ve instilled.”_

_Stephen stared at the floor. Not quite understanding what his father had meant. Love and pain were the same thing?_

_If that was the case, Stephen wanted neither._

_“Go close the door.” Eugene commanded- although Stephen couldn’t bring himself to move. He continued to stare at his feet. “Do I have to go close it myself? Very well.” The man growled, he stood up and pushed passed Stephen, pushing him to the side with little regard. Stephen looked up and watched helplessly as the door swung shut-_

_He was trapped._

_Although- had he ever really been free to begin with?_

_A longing for his mother hit him harder than it ever had before. Or even Yvette- their dear family maid who was likely tending to Donna and Victor- both to young to help themselves._

_Even as his father returned to him, Stephen stared at the door- willing it to open._

_He wanted his mother._

_Or anyone willing to save him._

_“Take your trousers down.”_

***

“Stephen!”

Stephen jolted awake, inhaling sharply as the dream of his past still lingered behind his eyes. Water went up his nose as he flinched- causing the water to slosh about in the tub. He coughed and pushed himself up into a sitting position still half asleep as he recalled where he was.

And who he was with-

“What the fuck?!” Stephen basically shouted as he took in the rather upset looking Tony Stark- who was sitting up on his knees just outside the tub- sleeves rolled up and wet from water and soap. 

“I should be asking that, asshole!” Tony snapped back and Stephen was at an actual loss for words as he stared at the brunet man. Although as surprised as he was by Tony’s presence- he was still in a half panicked state from that nightmare of a memory- he had to force himself to breathe- although his lungs didn’t seem to be agreeing with him.

“Woah-” He vaguely heard Tony swear, along with some other words he hadn’t had the mind to listen to. Tony’s voice seemed far away, and Stephen was barely aware of the hot hand that landed on his back. It took him a moment to recognize it as Tony’s and Stephen had half a mind to shove him away, however he couldn’t bring himself to move. His hands were gripping either side of the tub- knuckles white as his vision swam.

Black spots covered his eyes so he squeezed them shut altogether, accepting the darkness.

Darkness didn’t really seem to soothe him, so he focused on the stereo which was still playing. Another Cat Stevens song- Stephen recognized, _Oh Very Young was_ it’s title, released in 1974.  
His breathing slowly returned to normal as Stephen absently drummed his fingers along with the tune, eventually opening his eyes to see the dimly lit bathroom.

“You okay?”

It took Stephen a moment to recognize Tony’s voice- it was a lot quieter than usual, accompanied by a soothing tone that a parent might use for their injured child. Stephen loosened his grip on the tub and relaxed his shoulders. He took another long breath before turning to meet the gaze of his sudden house guest.

“Fine…” He said with a deep sigh. Annoyed at the moderate amount of heat that filled his cheeks. “What are you doing here?” He asked eventually- his original anger had faded into a more mellow emotion of simple annoyance.

“Uh- you literally told me you were going to drown yourself then went radio silent.” Tony stated. “And you expect me not to show up?”

“I didn’t-” Stephen began to protest, although came up short at the memory of his perhaps too dark of a joke- “I was kidding.”

“Yeah but with you who knows.” Tony replied with a scowl. “I sent you like five texts and you just- didn’t answer! Also- walking in to find you like- having a meltdown in the bathtub was not fun. Next time? Take a nap in your bed like a normal person. Oh- and this?!” Tony grabbed the stereo which was still faintly playing music and set it down on the closed lid of the toilet.

“You’ve got a death wish.”

“Understatement of the century.” Stephen drawled, sinking lower into the tub- suddenly aware of the current situation. “How did you even get in here?”

Silence.

“Tony?” He asked, voice laced with irritation.

“Well- just- I’ll pay for it.” Tony said with a sheepish grin before plopping himself back down beside the bathtub. He even reached to swat at a large mound of bubbles- hand pulling back covered in the white foaming soap. A pleased grin spread across Tony’s lips and Stephen couldn’t help but compare the man to a cat.

Stephen simply sighed and sank even lower- adjusting himself to his original position, chin barely above the water. He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the tub- not long enough for his fingers to prune luckily. The water was still quite warm, so it must have just been a few minutes.

“How’d your date go?” Tony asked, breaking the silence. Stephen cracked his eyes open and let out a sigh.

“Fine.” He said- however Christine was far from his mind at the moment.

Plus- he was quite sure she had considered it a simple outing of friends.

“Fine? So boring.” Tony said- still playing with the bubbles. The concept of personal space apparently lost on him. “So-”

“If you insist on sitting in here at least do something more useful than play with dollar store soap.” Stephen said, “Or even better- go away.”

“Hmmm…” Tony hummed thoughtfully and for a moment Stephen thought he was going to leave. The man went silent for a good minute before shuffling caught Stephen’s attention- he cracked his eyes open again only to see Tony discarding his shoes and socks-

“What are you doing?” He asked wearily.

“Making myself useful.” Tony answered with a mocking tone- obviously trying to mimic Stephen’s own voice. Stephen watched as Tony rolled up his pant legs and leaned forward- shoulders lifting to his ears as if he were a turtle trying to hide as Tony stood up and walked around to stand behind him. Stephen craned his neck around to try and see what he was doing, however he was given his answer when he was suddenly bracketed by two legs-

“What-” Stephen squawked and shifted forward further- his heartbeat picking up beyond healthy levels.

“Oh calm down.” Tony said from close behind him. “I’m not jumping you.”

“So you say…” Stephen said uneasily- still straining to lean forward.

“Look- I’m just sitting on the edge.” Tony explained. Stephen turned around wearily and saw that yes- Tony was perched on the edge of the tub behind him, legs stretched out in the water on either side of Stephen. In one hand he held a bottle of what Stephen quickly identified as Shampoo.

“You know. I was kidding when I said be useful.” Stephen said.

“Yes well, we’ve established that you’re awful at making jokes. Lean back.” Tony said dismissively and squirted way to much soap into an open palm.

“Or you just take things way to seriously.” Stephen grumbled, but leaned back despite himself. He desperately tried not to be bothered by the legs he found himself resting against- with how Tony was sitting, Stephen’s head was level with the man’s stomach- his torso was being held up by Tony’s thighs due to how his legs were sprawled in the water.

“Let’s agree to disagree.” Tony replied and began running his fingers through Stephen’s hair, rubbing the soap into his scalp with a gentleness that surprised Stephen. Rather than respond, Stephen just hummed softly and, against his better judgement, let his eyes slide closed once again.

The hands working against his scalp moved slowly, and each movement seemed to send a shiver down Stephen’s spine despite the warmth of the water. He let out a deep sigh and forced himself to relax even more until he once again reached that jelly like feeling from earlier.

Once again Stephen’s focus fell to the stereo which was still faintly playing a variety of music Stephen was fond of- however he was fond of most music. Anything that occupied the silence was a blessing to him. Because these days nothing had him more afraid than his own mind.

Silence was what developed dark memories and wishes of death that still lingered despite his “recovery.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Tony asked softly, pulling Stephen from his own mind- and yet plunging him back in at the same time. His dream came back in waves of unwanted stress and he forced himself to breathe.

Just keep breathing.

“My nightmare of a childhood.” He answered, eyes cracking open in uncertainty. He tilted his head forward when Tony ran his hands down the back of his head- gently rubbing at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t help the content sigh that escaped his lips- which drew a soft chuckle from behind him.

“Ouch.” Tony said, soapy hands running through the short hairs on the back of his neck. “Want to talk about it?”

Stephen snorted, of course he didn’t. What was the point? He already had to talk about it with a therapist he hardly knew. That was more than enough sharing for him- plus, he had told Johnny last year, hadn’t he?

And yet, he still didn’t feel so hot.

As far as he knew, there was no liberation in telling the truth.

Although….Stephen sighed to himself as a familiar voice came to mind.

_“If you just told him the truth it might be easier.”_

Stephen shook his head to clear Christine’s voice from his mind and tilted his head to the side when Tony’s hands traveled to the right. Washing his hair usually didn’t take quite this long, but he wasn’t complaining about the special treatment.

Which- in total honesty was odd.

Stephen took another deep, shaky breath and forced his eyes closed again- but was only greeted by horrifying sights and bittersweet memories.

People often praised his memory. Calling his perfect recall a gift that gave him power in life.

But what power was there in being reminded of all the awful things you have gone through every time you close your eyes?

He forced his eyes open again and leaned his head back to look up at the old ceiling of the bathroom. His tongue working around in his mouth like a heavy burden- considering what the truth would taste like.

“Cruelty is the opposite of love, not some inarticulate expression of it.” He eventually said into the empty air.

And was greeted only with silence.

The hands that were once carefully massaging his scalp slowed to a stop. They simply sat, tangled in his much to curly hair that had grown a titch to long for his liking.

The air felt heavy, and regret began to fill Stephen to his very core. His chest grew not lighter with the cryptic confession, but heavier. It was like an overweight man had been tap dancing on his chest with no regard for the fragile bones or the weak beat of his already injured heart.

Stephen was only vaguely aware of the moment Tony leaned forward, resting his forehead against the back of Stephen’s head- one hand had cautiously slid down onto Stephen’s shoulder, the other soon followed on the other side, and they both sat there- unmoving. 

Confusion was the only thing Stephen could feel at the moment- unsure why Tony was basically hugging him from behind until a tear dropped off his chin and into the water.

He was...Crying?

Ah- that made sense then.

When had the last time he cried been? Perhaps when he stood in the open window, staring down at the thirty three tempting floors below?

No, it had to have been when he admitted to Johnny Hall his desire to get clean. His dear friend had offered him that haunting question.

_‘What do you want to do?’_

Had anything changed? Eight long years had passed and how he was sitting pathetically in the arms of someone he was trying desperately to hate.

What did he want to do?

What could he do?  
  
The idea of not being able to move forward hung over Stephen’s head like a guillotine with a rotting rope.

Why had he walked out? Surely that wretched Doctor would tell the hospital he was unstable and Stephen would rot away in this run down apartment until starvation took him in his sleep.

Would that be so bad?

Stephen wrapped a hand around Tony’s bicep and leaned his head back against the man’s shoulder- the faint concern of getting soap all over the billionaire was long forgotten as he simply cried- a strange concept honestly. Stephen was definitely crying, but his lips were pulling into something one might call a smile. The heavy feeling in his chest he had been feeling before slowly dissipated and for once Stephen felt- weirdly at ease.

Shame was forgotten- after all, this wasn’t the first time Tony Stark had caught him crying.

Surely he wouldn’t mind.

Stephen choked back a laugh.

_Surely: the adverb of a man without an argument._

Tony didn’t move much, only shifting every so often to change how he was sitting- the bathtub edge probably wasn’t the most comfortable places to sit. But he didn’t try to make Stephen move.

And that was appreciated.

A minute turned into five quite quickly, then ten.

Eventually, the water grew cold enough to have Stephen shivering where he sat. His tears had long since dried, however he felt awful still. He sighed heavily and began to peel himself away from Tony- who gave his shoulder a squeeze as he did. The moment Stephen sat up, Tony pulled his arms away.

“Sorry…” Stephen said- surprised at how groggy his own voice was.

“No worries.” Tony replied in a rather happy tone that had Stephen raising an eyebrow- not that Tony could see his face.

There was a brief sound of water splashing and sloshing around that had Stephen narrowing his eyes until a cascade of water rushed over his head- he spluttered and got a nose full of water which sent him into a fit of coughing- soapy water filled his mouth and left an unpleasant taste behind.

He whipped his head around to glare at Tony who dropped a now empty basin to the side and looked at him with a wide smile.

“Your hair-” Tony began, but couldn’t finish because Stephen forcefully shoved a wave of water at the man- who was already wet enough. He offered Tony a smirk of his own after noting that the man was thoroughly soaked.

“You’re a child.” Tony said in a haughty voice, wiping at his eyes.

“You broke my door.” Stephen answered with a pointed look. “Again.”

“That’s…” Tony paused, “fair.”

“Go away so I can get dressed.” Stephen eventually said, making a shooing motion with his hands. Tony stuck out his bottom lip but climbed off the tub without complaint. Although as soon as his wet feet touched the tiled ground he slipped and stumbled, falling with a loud squawk and a crash. Stephen held in a laugh and peered over the edge of the tub at Tony who was sprawled on the floor.

“Iron Man- taken out by wet feet?” Stephen asked in mild amusement. Tony grumbled as he pushed himself up and made a show of walking out of the bathroom without falling again-

Stephen laughed quietly to himself and- with a little more grace than Tony- got out of the tub and quickly toweled himself off. He threw his clothes on.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment- his eyes were a ghastly red that had him cringing. He let out a deep sigh and shuffled out into the main room where he found Tony sprawled out on his couch- TV remote in hand.A familiar sight- sadly. Rather than acknowledge his presence Stephen continued his usual routine of prowling the kitchen for some form of edible food before giving up and simply grabbing a bottle of sparkling water and returning to the living room.

“Move.” Stephen said, tapping his bottle which he held between two fingers against Tony’s leg- who lifted his legs up to let Stephen sit.

Stephen sat for about two seconds until Tony finally started talking at his usual speed once again.

“You have like- zero TV channels. What kind of shitty deal is this place offering?” He asked. “Also I took one of your shirts- mine was soaked. Your fault.”

Stephen’s nose wrinkled at the thought- he looked over at Tony who was indeed wearing a slightly oversized shirt of his.

“Keep it.” He sighed- looking longingly at his black Queen T shirt that he’d never be able to bring himself to wear. 

“Don’t look so disgusted jeez.” Tony laughed and sat up. Switching the TV off entirely. “Now that I’ve assured you are indeed- not dead.” He started. “Why don’t you actually tell me about your meeting. Get the job?”

“No.” Stephen said with a low growl.

“No as in?”

“I didn’t get the job. At least not yet- although I doubt I will at this point.” He said with mild irritation.

“What, why not?” Tony asked- Stephen held in another deep sigh. He looked over at Tony who seemed genuinely interested- and caved.

“I never….” He started, thinking of a good way to word it. “They’re concerned about my mental health. So today I went to speak to a psychologist- who would evaluate me. But I- walked out.” He said through clenched teeth- still regretting that choice. “Now I won’t be hired, and will likely starve to death in a month.”

“Jesus Christ.” Tony swore, leaning back again. Stephen snatched the remote from him and put the telly back on- putting the volume low on a random channel that had some old cartoon playing- sue him for enjoying something lighthearted.

It was, nice enough- the Road Runner.

Stephen sat back, although found he was unable to actually relax against the cushions of the couch. Tony was sitting far enough away that it shouldn’t bother him and yet he swore he could feel the other mans heat-

He shivered.

And lasted only another two minutes in silence before standing up.

“Okay listen.” Stephen began, pacing around the living room. He didn’t look at Tony but could feel the man’s eyes on him as he walked.

“This is completely against my better judgement but-” Stephen paused, running a hand down his face- trying desperately to wipe away any fear that was slowly bubbling to the surface. Taking deep breaths, Stephen was sure he was about to spiral into another bout of crying or panicking or- _anything._

He forced himself to speak- grateful that Tony hadn’t interrupted him.

“I would like to be your friend.”

“Well shit doc, I thought we were friends already.” Tony responded. Stephen looked at him and a spike of anger shot through him. Tony must have seen it because he raised his hands in defence. “Sorry- keep going.”

“I don’t have friends. Not many- only two. One who understands, and one who is trying to get me to understand.” He took another shuddering breath. “Both of them are self sacrificing and spend their time trying to help me- they play doctor. Christine seems to think I need a new friend. Someone who is just a friend.” He explained, continuing his pacing.

“I need you to be my friend.” He said, and finally looked up at Tony again. Forcing his legs to stop moving despite the jitters. “Just a friend.”

“Okay.” Tony said in response- almost instantly. Stephen looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Tony repeated, leaning forward in his seat. He stared up at Stephen with a contemplating look- eventually nodding to himself. “Funny enough, I’ve only got two friends too. Well- had three, but Obie turned out to be an asshole.” Tony said, forcing a laugh- although Stephen could tell it was strained.

“I heard, unsurprising.” Stephen said bitterly- recalling the bald man with little fondness. Earning a slightly bitter laugh from Tony.

“Yeah- I remember you hating him. Should have listened.” Tony said with a shrug.

“No.” Stephen snorted. “Why would anyone listen to a man high on Heroin? Bad idea.”

“But you were right-”

“I hate most people, Tony.” Stephen cut in and then- “I’m sorry...About Stane.”

“It’s okay.” Tony said, voice quiet for once. Stephen sighed to himself and crossed his arms, looking down at Tony who was looking more and more uncomfortable- Stephen felt like it was looking at himself.

Was this how he seemed to everyone else? A depressed asshole?

“So….” Tony said, for the first time his tone was awkward and Stephen watched in awe as the man shuffled in his seat. For the first time, Tony Stark was at a loss. “....What do we do?” He asked, Stephen shrugged and finally sat back down on the couch.

“Watch TV?” He suggested, and Tony nodded.

“Sounds good.”

Stephen snatched the remote once again and turned up the volume- watching as the poor coyote tries his darnedest to catch the Road Runner. Every episode was the same- he’d almost do it, blow up, run into walls, fall to his death- and Stephen always felt bad for him. As a kid he recalled cheering for the Coyote, because the Road Runner was, quite frankly, an asshole.

“You know.” Tony spoke up as the coyote held up a sign as he fell off yet another cliff. “The Road Runner is a dick.”

“So is Jerry.” Stephen said, and Tony went quiet for a moment before he gasped to himself.

“He is- Jesus Christ. Cartoons are awful.” He said. “No wonder kids are so mean.”

“You know what isn’t bad? Scooby-Doo.” Stephen offered.

“Scooby-Doo is the best, hands down.” Tony agreed, “is it on?”

“No.” Stephen said with a hint of dismay and Tony shrugged, standing. Stephen watched him with a raised eyebrow.

“Let's go find it at a store then- I have a sudden need to watch the Zombie Island one.” Tony said, stretching.

“Right now?” Stephen asked, looking down at his sweatpants and T-shirt.

“Sure- no one cares about your clothes. Let’s go.” Tony said, grabbing his blazer and slipping it over the Queen T-shirt. It looked stupidly fine and Stephen grumbled to himself- but there was a small part of him that felt…..happy.

His childhood had been filled with nothing but traumatic events and the occasional moment of relaxation when his father wasn’t around. Otherwise, Stephen had no friends. Middle school and high school were void of friendship and he never experienced what it was like to have sleep overs- play games, watch stupid TV and talk about- well, anything.

Which is why when Tony went to the door, which was indeed broken open, Stephen followed without worry.

  
***

  
_“Goodness, look! There’s a strange little boy.” Stephen could hear a woman he would later come to know as Bridget say to the small group of people all settled in the sitting room. His mother and father had arranged a small get-together of friends- which is why his mother had left that morning._

_Left him._

_“That’s our son, Patrick.” Eugene said, looking at Stephen with an unreadable expression. Stephen simply stared back, face void of any emotion. He shifted where he stood- still feeling confused, afraid-_

_Alone._

_“You have kids? Wow! Patrick! Darling! Come on up, we’re having tea.” Bridget called to him, Stephen didn’t move._

_“Patrick, come join us.” Eugene said- and Stephen stayed put. Normally he wouldn’t ignore his father, but today was different. Today- his entire world had changed. He wanted his father to know that he’d killed him._

_Patrick Melrose was dead._

_Patrick, he hated the name. Hated it with all he had. His father had insisted upon Patrick but his mother- she didn’t like it. Although his mother never fought against Eugene. Instead, she resigned. But when Stephen was old enough to know how much he hated it, he told his mother and she offered him an alternative name- Vincent. Only his mother and Yvette called him Vincent._

_It was much better than Patrick, although anything was at this point._

_“Perhaps he can’t hear you.” Nicholas offered and Eugene scoffed._

_“Of course he can, he’s just being tiresome.”_

_“Perhaps you could show me to my room, so I can bathe and unpack?” Bridget cut in- and Stephen swore he could see her wink at him._

_“Oh, of course.”_

_The room emptied. Stephen left and wandered into another wing of the house- the nursery to be exact. Yvette was there with Donna and Victor. His two siblings that Stephen adored. Donna was four- Victor two._

_“Stephen!” Donna called as soon as she saw him. Her face lit up like the sun- and Stephen’s own lips pulled into a smile. She was the only one who called him Stephen- he wasn’t sure where it came from, but since she could speak she’d called him Stephen rather than Patrick or Vincent- his only guess was that she figured if both her parents could call Stephen whatever they wanted, then so could she._

_“Donna.” Stephen greeted, going up to her and sitting down on the floor beside her- blocks scattered the floor. She was doing her best to stack them. “How are you?” He asked her, and she grinned at him._

_“Good! Yvette said she’d let me have a snack soon.” She explained- Stephen nodded. Donna- when it came to food, was a black hole. She never stopped snacking and it was quite endearing. Stephen adored her with his whole heart._

_She was the only reason he hadn’t lost himself._

_“That’s good!” He said, watching as she stacked blocks as high as she could. Although- before either of them could make a move. A small, three year old who could barely walk five steps without tripping over his own feet barreled into the tower- sending the plastic blocks tumbling down. Donna screeched and Stephen caught Victor in his arms- the small toddler was laughing wildly and Donna looked scandalized._

_“Victor!” She scolded, and Stephen laughed along with the small boy. “You ruined it!”_

_“You can rebuild it.” Stephen said, setting Victor on his feet. “Victor will help you, right?” He asked the small boy, who nodded._

_“Yes….” He said- voice quiet._

_Victor Melrose wasn’t a healthy child. He got sick easily, and spent a lot of time bedridden- when he was born he had almost died. Stephen wasn’t meant to know that. But he heard- he heard a lot of things he wasn’t meant to hear._

_“I’m going to go see mother. Be good.” Stephen said, ruffling Victors hair and flashing a smile towards Donna. “Watch Victor for me, okay?” He asked, and Donna nodded._

_Stephen left the play room- Yvette asked him if he wanted a snack but he declined. Instead he quickly slipped out and moved as quietly as he could through the large house, heading towards the main staircase that sat across from the main door, a few feet away from the sitting room where all the adults were._

_Unfortunately- Stephen wasn’t as quiet as he had hoped._

_“Patrick.”_

_He froze, looking over at his father who sat in the other room- looking at him with a dark expression._

_“Where are you going?”_

_“Mummy wanted to see me.” Stephen answered, one hand wrapped tightly around the stairway rail._

_“Your mummy’s tired after her drive. Come and say hello to your godfather.” Eugene said, gesturing to George who sat beside his father- he offered Stephen a smile. Stephen nodded slowly and stepped down off the first step, shuffling into the sitting room._

_“Hello, Patrick.” George greeted him, Stephen smiled at him. “Up to mischief, are you?” He asked._

_“Almost certainly.” Eugene answered for him._

_“That’s what I like to hear.”_

_“Come closer.” Stephen did, only barely. “Hm...Is everything alright?”_

_“Yes, father.” Stephen answered._

_“Now we know you didn’t eat lunch. Did you have tea?”_

_“No.”_

_“Well, that’s why you’re so pale. You must eat if you want to grow up strong.” Eugene said, reaching out and touching the side of Stephen’s face- Stephen didn’t move, he stood there frozen under the soft tough. “Go and see Yvette, she’ll find you something. And leave Mummy be today. Alright? Dinner at eight.”_

_Stephen stepped away- ran, in fact. He turned up the stairs despite what Eugene had said about leaving his mother be- he didn’t want to listen. He wanted his mother._

_“Don’t be late.” He heard Eugene call behind him- and knew he wouldn’t be joining them for dinner anytime soon._

_He neared his mother’s room- he could hear her humming to herself, a sound he loved quite dearly. His mother was not a happy woman. She had issues- and he knew. He desperately wished for her happiness every day._

_When she hummed, he soared. Because it meant for just a moment- she wasn’t in pain._  
_“Vincent! Don’t skulk! Either enter a room or leave!” His mother called, humming ceased. Stephen flinched slightly- but stepped inside the room anyway. She was wearing a beautiful pink dress, hair done up perfectly- all in all a beautiful woman of no flaws. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. You startled me, that’s all.” She said as he neared her. She was perched at her vanity, pen in hand._

_“Only have eyes for you alright, I have to finish my writing.” She said, scribbling._

_“What are you writing?” Stephen asked, coming to stand beside her._

_“A check, for charity, to Save the Children.” She explained. “Because it’s important, when one has so much, to give something back. You’ll remember that, won’t you? When Daddy and I are no longer with you.”_

_Stephen nodded, although he was sure he’d forget._

_“I have something for you, too.” She cooed, Stephen stared at her as she reached around for something on the floor- bringing up a large, rather attractive cowboy hat. Stephen’s face remained unimpressed as she pressed it onto his head._  
  
_“Don’t give me that look.. I had to make sure it was suitable.” She said, lips pushed into a pout. Stephen sighed._

_“Handsome boy.” She cooed. “Now, you tell me all about your day.” She said, turning to look at her reflection and slip in a pair of shiny earrings. “Hm? Did you have fun with Daddy? Did you have a walk?”_

_Stephen didn’t answer. He wanted to, a voice sounding strangely like Donna was telling him to. But he couldn’t open his mouth._

_Why not?_

_“Vincent?” His mother called, turning to him. “What is it, love? What is it?” She asked, concern building behind her eyes, she pushed the hat off his head._

_“Shall I take your glass down? Bring you another?” Stephen eventually asked, pulling his mother’s attention away from his fear._

_“Such a thoughtful boy.” His mother cooed, distracted- much to Stephen’s relief. She drew him close, wrapping a fine arm around his shoulders. “I’m glad you’ve turned out well.” She said with a kind smile that warmed Stephen. He smiled timidly back at her as she poked his nose, continuing in a whisper, “I think the secret is not to interfere.”_

***

“For the love of god just pick one.” Stephen growled as he stood with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his robe- Tony stood before him in the freezer section of the local grocery store- in his hands two different flavors of ice cream. He looked genuinely hurt by making the choice.

“It isn’t that easy, Stephen.” Tony responded sharply. “They each have different qualities-”

“Then get them both.” Stephen said with a deep sigh, checking his watch for what must have been the hundredth time, they'd been in this store for almost an hour. They had long since found the movie- in a rite aid of all places- but Tony insisted they get snacks as well. While Stephen assured him he had some food at home- Tony didn’t care.

“ _We need proper Scooby-Doo snacks._ ” He had said with a drawn out sigh like Stephen was an absolute fool for thinking he had the right snacks.

So, Stephen humored the man, although the longer they stood there the more Stephen was convinced that Tony Stark was a ten year old in the body of a- what? Tony was probably in his late thirties by now right? He was most definitely older than Stephen, which was hard to believe.

“I can’t just eat them both that would be-...” Tony paused, trailing off and considering for a long moment. “You know what- I totally can.” He eventually decided, dropping the two pints of ice cream into the small basket Stephen had around his arm. Half Baked and Glampfire Trail Mix- two flavors that seemed absolutely disgusting to Stephen.

“What do you want?” Tony asked, pushing Stephen towards the freezer doors. Stephen gave him a dead stare and shook his head.

“Nothing.”

“Oh please, don’t be a stick in the mud. Pick your flavor! What’s your favorite? This is a perfect, bff bonding moment.” Tony prattled and Stephen grew more and more annoyed at every word but- sighed in defeat.

To be honest, he didn’t have a favorite. Stephen never ate this type of stuff, his childhood was indeed not a childhood. He grew up loving creme brulee- which, if there was such a flavor here he’d be elated.

He surveyed the choices- all of them looking disgustingly sweet.

But then again- Stephen did have a bit of a sweet tooth. He chewed absently on his bottom lip and read the different names until one finally caught his eye that sounded- well, _interesting._

“Strawberry Cheesecake?” Tony asked as Stephen pulled out said container of ice cream. Looking it over- he might as well.

“Sure.” Stephen said with a shrug. “I like cheesecake.” He said, dropping the pint into the basket and looking over at Tony, who had an unreadable expression on his face. If Stephen had to guess, he’d say- confused, or even calculating.

Either way, it faded from the mans face quite quickly.

“Awesome, let's go then!” Tony said, clapping Stephen on the back and strolled down the aisle towards the check out- Stephen followed behind him. Luckily the store wasn’t freakishly busy, but there had already been a few whispers drifting through the air. People marveling at Tony Stark- questioning why he was in such a place.

Tony seemed to ignore it well, which was to be expected for a man who grew up in the limelight of- well, everyone.

Stephen watched the man before him, not really paying attention to anything else. He walked with a slight sway to his hips and a skip in his step- he was short, but stood up straight and had an aura that dared people to look down on him.

It was odd how much confidence one person could have in themselves. Stephen couldn’t say he’d ever felt confident in himself. He may have acted like it- although that was mostly the drugs. As a child he never spoke out, kept to himself and was afraid of everything except for death itself.

But now he was just afraid of everything.

But what if he tried being brave?

Pulling his shoulders back, Stephen stood up a little straighter and took longer steps- long legs working to his advantage. Although walking like Tony Stark was a little impossible for him since he wasn’t the size of a guinea pig.

Tony lead them to the self check out and started pulling items out of the basket hung on Stephens arm to scan. Things went smoothly for the first few snacks until one mishap that had the genius scowling.

_“Unexpected item in bagging area.”_

“What- I-” Tony stuttered, reaching into the bag and pulling out the last thing he had scanned- his Glampfire Trail Ice Cream.

_“Unexpected item in bagging area.”_

“No there isn’t.” Tony responded, voice flat.

“Talking to the machine- interesting.” Stephen muttered under his breath and Tony shot him a glare.

_“Unexpected item in bagging area.”_

“I swear to god!” Tony screeched, pulling everything out of the stand. Stephen shook his head when the machine beeped unhappily at him and- not much to Stephen’s surprise, told them to wait for assistance. Which indeed came. A young man looked at Tony Stark in bewilderment as the man proceeded to curse out the machine in English and what Stephen assumed to be Italian.

All in all, they were quite the spectacle in the middle of a grocery store at seven in the evening.

They did, eventually, get everything paid for. The help reset the machine and Stephen took Tony’s place in scanning and bagging the items- which went much smoother. The two of them then hurried outside and back into Tony’s car which Stephen envied a great deal.

“For someone who builds things for a living that was quite pathetic.”

“Shut up, asshole.”

Stephen grinned, leaning against the window and watching the scenery pass by. It was dark by now, although the days were beginning to get longer once again, it was almost February and Stephen was quite ready for the warmth that would soon come. Winter had been long- and cold, considering his current residence.

The drive back to Stephen’s small, run down apartment was short and they spent it in silence aside from the radio playing at a low volume- Stephen absently hummed along to the tunes as he counted the streetlamps to occupy himself. He reached about fifty seven by the time the car stalled to a stop.

There was a point where Stephen’s eyes were drawn over to Tony- who, in the dimly lit car was glowing- literally.

There was a hint of curiosity in Stephen as his eyes were drawn to the faint blue light showing through Stephen’s worn down Queen T-shirt. It was huge, and for a moment Stephen wondered how it felt- did it hurt? It must have. There’s no way it couldn’t.

Honestly, Stephen wasn’t sure how Tony was even alive but every bone in his body desired to find out for himself. How did it work?

Not that he’d ever bring himself to ask. That was a line Stephen would never be able to cross.

Stephen appreciated the fact that Tony didn’t comment about the state of his living. The billionaire was likely used to things way more extravagant and- well. Not this. The room was clean however, which Stephen was grateful for.

They crossed the threshold of the front door, Stephen no longer having to unlock his door thanks to the frame being broken. Tony gave Stephen a sheepish smile as he pushed open the door with a scowl.

“You’d better fix this before I get mugged in the middle of the night.” Stephen grumbled, kicking off his slippers because they were now slightly damp from the light rain that had started the moment they left.

“Not like there’s anything here to mug.” Tony mumbled and Stephen glared at him, earning an innocent smile from the shorter man.

“You’re on thin ice.” Stephen responded, taking a seat on the couch once again- this time swinging his legs up to take up all the possible room. Tony pouted, but dropped the bag of ice cream and other random snacks onto the small coffee table and went into the kitchen to grab spoons- it was weird how easily at home the man seemed, but Stephen shoved the thought to the very back of his mind as he switched on the television.

Tony returned quickly and ripped the plastic film covering the movie open- sticking it in the small run down DVD player that he clearly snickered at. Stephen remained quiet although felt a slight offence on behalf of his old DVD player. The thing worked and that was enough. Not everyone needed high tech stuff-

Not that it wouldn’t be disliked if he had it.

Stephen huffed a deep sigh and turned on the movie. Grunting in annoyance as Tony shoved at his legs so he could sit down- he ended up landing right on Stephen’s feet, toes stuck underneath of Tony’s thighs. But he didn’t pay any attention to it- instead his eyes drifted towards the TV which was now playing the low, familiar tune of a cartoon he’d only had the pleasure of seeing once in his childhood.

“God I’ve seen this hundreds of times yet it never gets old.” Tony snickered, reaching for his ice cream- going for the Half Baked first. He handed Stephen his, and he gladly took it along with a spoon.

“I saw it once, with my sister.” Stephen mumbled as he pulled the lid off of the small ice cream pint.

“You have a sister?” Tony asked, eyes not drawing away from the screen.

“Yeah.” Stephen said quietly, lips curling into a soft smile as he recalled the excitement of Donna the first time they’d seen the movie. The first happy thing that had happened to them in years. “I did.”

Tony was quiet for a minute, spoon digging into his ice cream but not making a move to take the first bite. Stephen forced himself to keep his eyes on the screen, it seemed like Tony was- contemplating, and honestly he was preparing himself for the typical question.

_Did?_

_What happened?_

_I’m sorry._

“Did she like it?”

Stephen blinked, glancing back at Tony, who was now looking over at him- a questioning smile on his lips. Stephen took a bewildered second to consider his answer. Did she like it? Yes, he could clearly remember how excited she had been before and after.

“Yes.” Stephen finally choked out.

“Good.” Tony said, smile widening. “What was her name?”

“Donna.”

“Well.” Tony said, lifting his container of ice cream towards Stephen, spoon still sticking out of it. “Too Donna, then.”

Stephen blinked at him, a strange feeling of- something he didn’t recognize stirred in his stomach. Not really knowing what else to do, Stephen lifted his own pint- and smiled.

“For Donna.”

***

_The stairs in the old Melrose house were steep and unforgiving. They were stacked- three different landings,He was always careful going down, knowing that one wrong move would send you tumbling down all three flights, which in total made three walls and fifty steps you could hit on your way down._

_Stephen made it down two before stopping._

_The final stretch of steps always scared him, they were those last handful of steps that would deliver him into the main area of the house- and just around the corner, his father would sit playing his piano- always the same song._

_The song he wrote for Stephen._

_A song he hated with all his heart._

_A soft crack and a jolt of pain drew his eyes away from the bottom of the stairs and to the small cocktail glass he had been holding in his hands. Red stained the palm of one hand and a feeling of dread overtook him. He’d be punished for this- breaking a glass._

_Why had it broken?_

_He hadn’t realized he had been holding onto it so tightly._

_Stephen bit down on his bottom lip, slowly looking back up. Feeling his heartbeat slowly climb up his throat, he edged his way closer to the first step of the final flight, this would be easier to explain wouldn’t it? Yes, it definitely would._

_Or was he doing it for that off chance he wouldn’t get back up?_

_That realization didn’t happen until he had already pushed himself over the edge. A rush of air was the last thing he felt as he let himself lean forward and tumble down the stairs. Eyes squeezed shut- hand curling even tighter around the broken glass as a cry of pain forced itself up his throat and into the mostly silent halls of the Melrose house._

_In a flash, Yvette was by his side, face red with worry as she sat Stephen on the stairs, who was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that he was indeed okay, aside from the terrible cut in the palm of his hand. Yvette had been speaking- but Stephen paid no mind as he stared at the blood beginning to pool in his hand. That is, until it was covered with a white cloth._

_“Merci, Yvette, I’ll take over now.” Beverly Melrose said softly as she appeared from upstairs._

_“Hello, love.” Beverly said softly, Stephen’s whole body clenched as his mother moved to sit beside him. “Ouch!” She cried softly- although it was clearly exaggerated. “Mommy sat on some glass.” She laughed and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, the smell of her perfume almost overwhelming._

_“Serves me right, no doubt.” She said, resting her head against Stephen’s after scooting around the broken glass. “What happened? Tell me.”_

_“It was an accident.” Stephen said, eyes still glued to his hand- the white bandage slowly turning red. “Don’t tell father….”_

_“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.” His mother said. “You know what I’m going to do instead? Tomorrow morning, I’m going to take you to the carnival- Anne and I checked it out today- oh you’ll just love it.” Beverly said. “Ok?”_

_Stephen nodded._

_“No excuses, first thing. Just you and me.” She said. “Would you like that?” Stephen nodded again- although as he looked up at his mother- he couldn’t bring himself to smile at her. She looked so beautiful, a soft smile graced her lips as she looked down at Stephen with every ounce of love a mother should._

_“I want to go away.” Stephen said. Not breaking eye contact with his mother even as her eyes glistened at his words._

_“What do you mean?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper._

_“Leave here.” Stephen whispered back, suddenly filled with a sense of urgency- knowing they were discussing something they shouldn’t. Beverly bit her bottom lip and looked away from Stephen, taking a deep breath full of unease and sorrow- as she exhaled, Stephen swore he heard her say a breathy, weak, “Yes.”_

_But before she could really answer, the phone began to ring- a sound he would soon grow to hate._

_Beverly looked back at him, a conflicted look in her expression._

_“I must get that, darling.” She said softly and Stephen nodded- he knew she had to. “I’ll come back and tuck you in, I promise.” She said, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. Stephen nodded again- the warmth of her lips against his head soothing the growing fear in his stomach._

_She promised._

_But he knew she wouldn’t._

***

Stephen woke up on the floor that next morning, yet he felt better than he had in weeks. He was quite used to waking up on the floor, although in those times he wasn’t sober- so the ache in his back was much more unbearable than usual. He groaned as he sat up- head narrowly missing the edge of the coffee table.

Sitting up full, Stephen glanced around to find his apartment empty aside from himself- the TV was off, and the mess of snacks had been cleaned away. The only thing remaining on the small coffee table was a small note that seemed to be written in haste.

**Thanks -T.S**

Stephen snorted at the single word and pushed himself up off the floor, noting the pops and cracks of his joints as he did. As he stood, however- he realized he really didn’t have an agenda for the day.

This was a first- yet he knew it’d be a regular thing quite soon if he didn’t find anything to do with his life.

Stephen sighed, as he usually did, and began his morning routine.

And he did this for the next week.

Time seemed to fly by in a blur, sometimes he’d meet with Christine who was working at Metro General for her second year- she had graduated before him and they snatched her up quickly. She would tell him stories about how dreadful it was but Stephen had never envied someone so much. He could tell she loved it despite the horrible hours and the bossy teachers. The thrill was enough for her, and he desired it passionately.

But instead of saying so, Stephen just smiled and encouraged his friend to the best of his ability.

Christine pushed for him to return to the Therapist, but he had no desire to. He already had a perfect memory of each and every horrible thing his mother and father had done to him- having to talk about it would do nothing but harm him even further. He had believed he was getting better after getting clean.

The painful process was the worst thing Stephen had ever experienced, or at least amongst the worst. It had changed him, being sober and clean really cleared up the fog in his mind, he hadn’t heard a peep from Victor.

Although sometimes he missed him.

He missed all of them.

But apparently his efforts were meaningless, because he was still the monster he had always been. There was no liberation- he didn’t feel free or okay, he was still weighed down by the nightmares of his childhood. No number of tears would change that he wasn’t okay.

And he hated anyone who said he could change.

He did change, and yet he was the same.

“So hear me out here.” Tony began, sitting across from Stephen- who had been basically forced out of his apartment and very unhappy. Stephen sat with his arms crossed, not touching the cheeseburger in front of him. Tony had taken them to McDonalds- well, to be more accurate, Tony’s driver took them there. He had shown up at Stephen’s apartment unannounced, weeks after their original ‘sleep over’ as Tony liked to call it.

Stephen was close to throwing up every time he heard the term.

“You’re on thin ice.” Stephen said, knowing that the burger in front of him was nothing but bribery- Tony wanted something, and he didn’t want to give it.

“I’d like you to come to Monaco with me.” Tony said, and Stephen’s scowl deepened..

“N-”

“Before you say no!” Tony cut him off, hands shooting up and waving around like he was trying to divert Stephen’s attention. “It’s just for two weeks- just for fun.”

“Nothing in this world is free.” Stephen asked, rolling his eyes.

“You do want to go though.”

“No- I really don’t.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect opportunity for bonding.”

“I’m beginning to regret ever asking yo-”

“Listen.” Tony cut him off again, and Stephen was growing more and more annoyed. “Please stop asking why and just agree.”

“Why?” Stephen asked, shaking his head- that sounded like a trap.

“Because I want you to come.”

“That’s a terrible reason.” Stephen snorted.

“Because…..” Tony trailed off, visibly deflating in his seat. Stephen raised an eyebrow at him and the man let out a long sigh. “I want your help.”

“Why?” Stephen asked again, although ideas began to tickle the back of his mind. “I don’t need your help, Tony.” He said when the other man didn’t respond. “I’m not a project you can just fix by taking me-”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” Tony said, clearly looking- nervous, much to Stephen’s surprise. The man reached across and grabbed the cheeseburger Stephen had yet to touch- unwrapping it and taking a huge bite himself. A nervous eater?

“What are you trying to do, then?” Stephen asked.

“Help myself.” Tony said around a mouthful of food. “Obviously.”

“I feel like being seen with an ex-addict would harm your reputation more than aid it.”

“Have you seen the shit people say about me already? Trust me, this is mild.” Tony said and winced almost right away- Stephen raised both his eyebrows at him.

“Classy.”

“I-”

“Fine.” Stephen said, cutting Tony off. Tony perked up almost instantly. “But I better not regret this- I swear to God if you force me to do something-”

“As I said.” Tony said, swallowing another large bite. “It’s just a vacation.”

“Fine.” Stephen said, reaching across the table to yank the half eaten burger out of Tony’s fingers- he seemed minorly annoyed but didn’t comment. “You do realize it seems like you’re after something.”

“I’m not.” 

“It seems like you are.” Stephen said in response, earning a sad look from Tony. Setting the burger down.

“I know….” Tony said with a deep sigh. “I just want to help you.”

“I thought this was to help yourself?” Stephen asked.

“Is it so hard to believe that helping you would help me?” Tony asked, and Stephen looked down to his lap- hands folded together. He could feel an unpleasant sting in his hand where he had once been injured- his defense was beginning to crumble and he knew it.

“Admitting that you’re helping someone for your own gain is a douchey move.” Stephen said quietly and Tony laughed softly.  
  
“Well you obviously don’t want me to help just to help so-” Tony shrugged.

“Why in the world are you worried about me at all?” Stephen asked, looking back up at Tony, who snorted at him.

“That’s what friends do, idiot.”

  
***

  
_“Hello Patrick.” Anne Moore, dear friend of Beverly Melrose greeted Stephen when she came marching out of the dining room. Stephen was meant to be asleep- however, found himself sitting on the second to last step of the main stairs- now in his pjs._

_He wasn’t sure what drew him out of bed- perhaps part of him still hoped his mother would return as she had promised and tuck him in._

_Although those hopes were always met with disappointment._

_“I broke a glass, don’t tell my father.” Stephen said as the woman drew closer- he wasn’t quite sure why he said it. It just seemed the proper thing to say._

_“You look so grim.” Anne said softly, coming to stand beside him. “You’re shaking.” She pointed out- sounding mildly alarmed. She came over to him, sitting down beside him- the faint voice of his father could be heard from the dining room- telling another morbid story no doubt._

_“Do you want to tell me? What is it? Patrick?” Anne asked, placing a warm hand on his back, rubbing comforting circles. Stephen enjoyed it- but couldn’t bring himself to speak. He so desperately needed to, maybe if he just told someone- he would be safe._

_“What about your mother? Do you want to tell your mother?” Anne asked._

_His mother? Yes, if he told Beverly, she would take him away from this place. She would take him, Donna and baby Victor all away where they’d be safe- all four of them. Surely she would._

_Stephen nodded._

_“Okay, I’ll be right back- I promise.” She said to him, standing up._

_“I don’t believe you….” Stephen said softly, drawing Anne’s attention. She looked down at him, mildly surprised- sadness filled her eyes. “You say you will, but you won’t….”_

_“Patrick, I will.” She said again, nodding to him. For a split second- Stephen did believe her. But when she disappeared back into the dining room, that hope began to fade._

_He could hear his father’s story pause, shadows from the other room moved and Stephen could make out his mother- watching as she stood up. She was going to come to him._

_But his father’s voice grew louder, and Stephen could hear him speak._

_“I thought we’d agreed that you wouldn’t rush to Patrick each time he whines and blubbers.” Eugene said, voice dull and commanding._

_“He fell down the stairs earlier, he may be hurt.” Beverly said._

_“Well in that case, a real doctor should have a look at him.” There was a faint creaking- Stephen froze at the thought of his father coming out here to see him- fear was the only thing he could feel._

_“He’s not hurt.” Anne said quickly, and the movement stopped. “He just wants to talk to his mother.”_

_“You see darling? He isn’t hurt. And so it’s just a question of sentiment. Does one allow oneself to be blackmailed or not? If you si, we can discuss it.” Eugene explained, no doubt beginning another one of his lengthy ideas. “The proposition I’d like to make is that education should be something of which a child can later say: ‘If I survived that, I can survive anything.’”_

_“Well that’s crazy and wrong and you know it.” Anne’s voice was quick to respond- she was the only one willing to stand up to Eugene in these types of situations._

_“Well, I certainly think a child should be challenged.” Victor- an old friend of his father spoke up. He had come with Anne._

_“Oh, for goodness sakes, Victor!” Anne cried._

_“Well, nobody wants anyone to be miserable.”_

_“Because God forbid you should ever contradict him.” Anne snapped at Victor- who went silent._

_“I know it’s an unfashionable point of view, but in my opinion, nothing that happens to you as a child really matters.” Eugene spoke up again, amusement in his voice. He clearly loved this type of situation._

_“When it comes to things that don’t matter, you are at the top of my list.” Anne replied, voice cold and full of malice. Stephen squeezed his eyes shut and stood up from his place on the stairs- retreating back up to his room._

_He knew the moment that Eugene opened his mouth that she would not come to see him. She was afraid of him- and never did anything for Stephen. Maybe she simply didn’t love him enough._

_He returned to his room, climbing into the oversized bed and burrowing into the blankets. Donna and Victor were likely asleep already in the room they shared next to Yvettes. Usually Stephen would go see them before bed, but he wasn’t sure he could face them._

_How could he?_

_He wasn’t sure how much time passed when his bedroom door creaked open. He was certain he hadn’t fallen asleep yet- as it opened, he thought, just for a moment, that it was his mother. She had come to talk to him- just as he asked of her. But the voice that filled the quiet room dashed his hopes- and filled his stomach with dread._

_“Can’t sleep?” Eugene asked quietly- Stephen kept his eyes shut, feigning sleep. “Me neither.” The man continued, the floorboards creaked beneath him as he walked closer to the bed. “Must be all the excitement. All these people…” He trailed off, now standing just beside the bed. Stephen didn’t dare move a muscle._

_“Here.” Eugene said, grabbing part of Stephen’s blanket and moving it more over his shoulders- he even touched and adjusted his pillow, although Stephen felt it was less comfortable than before. “Is that better? I’ll leave you now.”_

_So he said, but there was no movement. Eugene was just standing there, staring down at Stephen._

_“But know one thing.” He continued, voice suddenly much sharper- harsh and unforgiving as he broke Stephen down the rest of the way._

_“If you tell your mother, or anyone else, about today. I will snap. You. In. Two.”_

***

“You look glum.” Tony said nudging Stephen’s side as they exited a Rolls Royce Phantom- dark blue, another one of Tony Stark’s many cars. Stephen had a frown etched onto his face, at this point it was permanent. Only a short while ago they had departed from the International Monaco Heliport Airport and were now arriving at a place Stephen was way to under dressed for.

“I don’t recall agreeing to surprise events.” Stephen said through clenched teeth- he had remained stubbornly quiet the entire flight even when Tony tried to have a friendly conversation- he was pissed. Of course he was pissed- he was always pissed when it came to Tony Stark.

Why had he agreed to this?

Probably that nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Christine.

“Didn’t you look at the brochure I gave you?”” Tony asked without looking at Stephen.

“You never gave me one, Tony.” Stephen growled.

“Oh- well shit. Don’t worry about it! Just follow my lead!” Tony exclaimed. Nudging Stephen’s side yet again- this time Stephen slapped his hand away and glared at him.

“Last time I traveled with you, you left me to find a way home myself.” Stephen grumbled.

“I was legitimately kidnapped you cannot _actually_ be mad at me for that can you?” Tony asked, mouth dropping open in shock when Stephen didn’t answer. “You monster.”

“Grudges are something I’m good at holding.” Stephen replied with a smile, adjusting his old flimsy sunglasses to fit more comfortably on his nose. His legs ached mildly from the long flight- not that Stephen wasn’t familiar with plane rides. “You know I have no idea what I’m meant to be doing here, right?”

“Why not resent the freaks that kidnapped me?” Tony asked, jutting his bottom lip out. Stephen ignored it. “Don’t worry about it, Pepper knows our agenda perfectly. And just wait until you meet the new help.”

“What help?” A voice said from behind, startling Stephen slightly, he stepped aside as a beautiful blonde woman came between them. Tony looked a little timid beside her- in her heels she was a good two inches taller than him, which was a little comical.

Stephen, for the most part, remembered Pepper. Aside from her appearances in the media, he had seen her all those years ago with Tony and Stane- although that night was nothing but a blurry haze in the back of his memory.

“You know, it’s Europe. Whatever happens in the next 20 minutes, just go with it.”

“Go with it? Go with what?” Pepper asked, mildly alarmed as they entered the restaurant that overlooked the _Circuit De Monaco._ Stephen’s scowl only deepened as they stepped inside- he was sure to trail a little further behind Pepper and Tony, uninterested in the sheer amount of people that immediately flocked to Tony Stark’s side.

“Mr. Stark?”

Stephen’s eyes were drawn to- well, the first word that popped into his head was gorgeous- woman. She was tall with a head of dark red hair. She was in a dark dress and had a small smile on her face that- didn’t quite reach her eyes. At first Stephen was enamored but that feeling quickly faded away the longer he looked at her.

Something was ...off.

“Hey.” Tony answered her with a smile of his own and Stephen rolled his eyes as the man clearly looked her up and down.

“Hello, how was your flight?” The woman asked.

“It was excellent. Boy, it’s nice to see you.”

“We have one photographer from the ACM, if you don’t mind. Okay?” She asked and Stephen quickly realized that this woman was Tony Stark’s new PA. Which meant she was probably a very expensive lawsuit.

God, why was he here?

“When did this happen?” Pepper asked, standing beside Stephen- much to his surprise.

“What? You made me do it.” Tony answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I made you do what?” Pepper asked.

“You quit. Smile. Look, right there. Stop acting constipated. Don’t flare your nostrils.” Tony spoke quickly as he gestured around the room. Pepper rolled her eyes.

“You are so predictable.” Pepper sighed.

“That’s the amazing thing.” Tony grinned at her.

“Right this way.” The still unnamed woman said, gesturing for them to follow. Stephen once again stayed in the back, looking at Pepper’s feet so as to look invisible, but not lose his way.

“You look fantastic.” He heard Tony say.

“Why thank you.” The woman responded.  
  
“But that’s unprofessional, what’s on the docket?” Stephen snorted, shaking his head at the man’s behavior.

“You have a dinner at 9:30.”

“Perfect, I’ll be there at 11.”

“Absolutely.”

“Is this us?”

“I can be.”

“Great, make it us.” Tony stopped in front of a table that could hold five. Stephen felt that everything here was happening all to quickly. He scowled down at Peppers shoes- Neiman Marcus heels, Pointed-Toe Red Sole Pump, Black.

The heel itself was what ...four and a half inches or so?

“Stephanie? Hello? Are you still there?” Tony. Stephen snapped his eyes up and found the man standing right in front of him. Eyebrows raised, snapping his fingers in front of Stephen’s face. Stephen blinked and pushed the hand away.

“What?” He asked.

“There’s a suit waiting for you in the bathroom. Considering... “ Tony gestured to Stephen’s outfit- a grey jumper with dark slacks. Not the best choice for the type of gathering this was. Stephen scowled.

“If you had told me where we were going-” Stephen started but Tony clamped a hand over his mouth and Stephen narrowed his eyes at the man, tempted to bite his hand.

“I know. But this was just so much easier. Now go.” Tony turned him towards the bathroom and started pushing Stephen along. Guiding him towards the back where they did indeed enter a much to fancy restroom. The hands on his shoulder blades were burning through his sweater- Stephen sighed.

“I can walk myself.”

“Can you? You were off in la la land two seconds ago.” Tony said from behind him, only pulling his hands away when they entered the empty restroom. As promised there was a suit there waiting for him.

“Thanks, Hap.” Tony said, grabbing the suit from his bodyguard. Stephen had met the man maybe twice by now.

“Never ask me to do that again.” Happy replied, looking overly annoyed with Tony, although it seemed so far everyone was annoyed with him.

“Probably will.” Tony said, even as Happy went to leave. Stephen flashed the man a smile- a little embarrassed by the situation. He couldn’t help but eye the red suitcase the man had with him- it didn’t take Stephen long to come up with a few ideas on what it was.

“Put this on.” Tony said, holding out the suit. Stephen eyed it and couldn’t deny that he was- interested.

The jacket was black, single breasted with peak lapels. Angled pockets with kissing three button cuffs. Definitely fitted. Then there was the shirt and vest- both white, along with the white bow tie that Stephen knew would bug him endlessly.

He hated bow ties.

But the more he looked at it…

“Did you purposefully get an English style suit?” Stephen asked, although he knew the answer- there were most definitely shoulder pads. Traditional for English suits.

“As much as I wanted to get you a slim fitting Italian cut- I figured I’d stick with the alma-mater.”

“You’re an idiot.” Stephen snorted, grabbing the suit and locking himself in one of the stalls- he heard Tony’s snort of amusement as he did so, but ignored it.

“So modest, Mr. Melrose.” Tony called, clearly leaning against the stall door. Stephen could see his shoes-

Salvatore Ferragamo. Asten leather- black. Stephen cursed himself for knowing that. Forcing his eyes away from the Italian shoes and to the suit- he’d look like a pompous asshole wearing a suit usually worn at a wedding- but anything was better than a worn down jumper.

Brushing away any other negative thoughts Stephen pulled off his jumper and undershirt to pull on the perfectly pressed white dress shirt.

“You and I are already too close for comfort.” Stephen grumbled in response, fingers fumbling with the buttons. “And don’t call me that.”

“What? You’re the one who declared us friends.” Tony answered with a small tisk. “What’s wrong with your name? I like it.”

“You said we were already friends- even though I was clearly trying to get you to leave me alone.” Stephen grumbled, hearing Tony snicker. He pulled on the vest, followed by the jacket and without warning, opened the stall door. Enjoying the way Tony stumbled, but he recovered quickly and turned around to look at Stephen. “I don’t. So don’t use it.”

“You forgot the tie.” Tony said, not commenting on his name any further.

“I hate bow ties.” Stephen answered and Tony snorted, grabbing the tie from Stephen’s hands as Stephen walked by to look at himself in the mirror. Tony forced him to turn and face him, flipping up his collar. Stephen stood still- but rolled his eyes as the tie was pulled around his neck.

“Oh stop whining.” Tony scoffed, clipping the tie in place and folding his collar over. “People with SI have to look like they’ve just rolled out of breakfast with the queen- hey have you ever met the queen?”

“Oh yeah, I had tea with her every Friday.” Stephen said and Tony looked excited for maybe two seconds before picking up on the sarcasm.

“Asshole.” He grumbled before his hands traveled up Stephen’s face to run through his hair. Stephen did his best not to flinch. “I swear your hair was brown before.”

“Hair does change as you age. Considering I was barely an adult it isn’t surprising.” Stephen answered- it was true. His hair had been a dark brown in his youth but over the years grew darker, it could pass for black by now. “If you want a medical reason, Eumela-”

“Yeah okay Doctor Phil.” Tony cut him off, Stephen wrinkled his nose- “What do you mean barely an adult? How old were you when we met?” Tony asked and Stephen snorted.  
  
“I was twenty-one? I think. Maybe Twenty-two.” Stephen answered. “Also Doctor Phil is a psyc-”

“Twenty-one?” Tony asked, hands freezing in Stephen’s hair. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, that’s basic math.” Stephen responded and Tony stuck his tongue out. “Why is that surprising?”

“I just- thought you were older.” Tony answered with a shrug, still messing with Stephen’s hair. Trying to smooth out the curls that refused to do so- when it was short it curled, no exception.

“What- older than you? How insulting.”

“W- just how old do you think I am?!” Tony asked, looking actually insulted.

“I don’t know- forty?” Stephen guessed, tone nonchalant. 

“I’m thirty-three, asshole!”

“Surprised you don’t have any greys yet.”

“Fuck you.” Tony snorted, lips pulled into a smile even though he was doing his best to act offended. He let out a deep sigh and dropped his hands from Stephen’s hair, instead fixing the way the jacket sat on his shoulders. “Your hair is a monster.”

“I’m aware.” Stephen laughed. “By the way….” He started, trailing off. Did he really want to do this?

“What’s up, doc?” Tony asked with a grin.

“You’ve been waiting for that one, haven’t you?” Stephen snorted. “It’s Christine, she’d like me to invite you to come to my graduation.”

“Ah- Christine wants me to come, not you?” Tony asked. “Just for clarification, I need to know who to hang out with.”

“Christine, obviously.” Stephen answered and Tony laughed.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Stephen repeated.

“Of course! Can’t miss my best buddies big day. Are you doing anything special? Giving a speech?” Tony asked and for a moment Stephen allowed himself to feel a swell of pride.

“Yes.”

“Great.” Tony grinned, for once a glimmer of genuine emotion seemed to show on his face, stunning Stephen ever so slightly. “now- let’s get back out there before they start questioning what we’ve been doing in here. You know. Alone.” He went on, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Stephen shook his head in mild annoyance, but turned to follow Tony when he walked passed him.

Walking back out into the main lobby of the restaurant, Stephen didn’t feel so out of place anymore. In fact, he felt a little to in place, as it were. Parties like this happened all the time in his family.

High society meant a bunch of rude gold diggers after nothing but fame- at least it did in England. Stephen couldn’t judge the Americans quite yet. Tony was- fine. At least now he was, after whatever occurred in Afghanistan.

“You look nervous.” Tony said, startling Stephen when he took his arm, guiding Stephen’s arm to hook through Tony’s.

“I have no idea what I’m meant to be doing.” Stephen hissed at him as they walked towards the bar, still waiting on the table. “Also you’re making me look like your plus one.” He snapped, tugging on his arm but Tony wouldn’t let it go.

“Guest, friend, plus one- what’s the difference?.” Tony asked, earning a glare from Stephen- which was completely ignored in favor of greeting Pepper again, who was leaning against the bar, drink in hand.

Stephen didn’t move, mainly because he couldn’t. Tony was standing next to talking wildly fast, all attention on her. But- he wouldn’t let go of Stephen’s arm. So he was stuck. Stephen’s mind was drifting as he looked around the room- many women and men alike were hovering around Tony and Stephen couldn’t help but laugh at the desperation to be in his good graces.

Being rich and famous seemed so- stupid. Yet here Stephen was, on the arm of the richest man in the Americas.

“Anthony. Is that you?” A voice cut through the crowd- much louder than the others. Drawing Stephen out of his thoughts. He could feel Tony tense beside him and watched as the man rolled his eyes, mumbling to Pepper.

“My least favourite person on Earth…”

“Hay, pal.” The man said again, and Stephen was sure he had heard that voice before. But Couldn’t place where. Tony finally turned, breaking his hold on Stephen only for a moment as he switched to holding him with the other arm when Stephen turned as well. Finally, he could see why he recognized that voice.

“Oh.” Stephen said- a little stupidly as he took in Justin Hammer. Aka, his plane buddy that would not stop talking about money and sex.

And Tony Stark, now that he thought about it. 

Although the words said about Tony were not kind- and the look on Hammers face as he recognized Stephen was quite priceless as he examined their looped arms.

“Justin Hammer.” Tony greeted with mock enthusiasm.

“How are you doing? You’re not the only rich guy here with a fancy car. And Stephen!” Justin’s attention went to Stephen, who did his best not to wrinkle his nose when Hammer actually lifted his arms slightly and stepped towards Stephen intending to _hug_ him of all things.

“You two know each other?” Tony cut in- and for once, Stephen was grateful to be in such close proximity to him, because he expertly wedged himself between Stephen and Justin, who looked only mildly awkward.

“We go way back.” Justin said with an overly friendly smile. “Buddies, right?” He nodded at Stephen.

“Oh of course.” Stephen said with the sweetest smile he could muster. Tony looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Really?” Tony asked, a little baffled. “When? How?”

“Oh it’s a long story.” Justin said, actually winking at Stephen- who was suddenly very uncomfortable. He already disliked Hammer from their original meeting- but now he just seemed to have gone through negative character development since they last met. It’s like he was trying to be something he wasn’t...

Stephen looked at Tony.

Ah. That made sense.

“Well.” Tony said, his grip on Stephen’s arm tightened, “small world.”

“I guess.” Justin laughed. “Hey! You know Christine Everhart from Vanity Fair. You guys know each other?” He asked and as if on cue, the woman appeared beside Justin. Pepper appearing on Tony’s other side at the same time.

“Hi. Yes.” The woman- Christine greeted, holding out a hand which Pepper shook- Tony still had his gaze locked on Justin who was squirming.

“Yes.” Pepper answered.

“Yes, roughly.” Tony said, still staring at Hammer.

“We do…” Pepper continued- the situation awkward. She looked at Tony with a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t pay her any mind.

“BTW, big story. The new CEO of Stark Industries.” Justin said, gesturing to Pepper. He was clearly trying to break the tension.

“I know, I know.” Christine said, a smile crawled over her face.

“Congratulations.” Justin said to Pepper, who smiled.

“My editor will kill me if I don’t grab a quote for our Powerful Women Issue.” Christine continued.

“Oh.” Pepper responded, Stephen held in a laugh.

“Can I?” Christine asked.

“Sure.” Pepper responded.

“She’s actually doing a big spread on me for Vanity Fair. I thought I’d throw her a bone, you know. Right?” Justin asked, laughing although Stephen wasn’t sure at what- if Stephen were to laugh, it would be at this mans terrible attempts at conversation.

Not that Stephen was any better.

“Right. Well, she did quite a spread on Tony last year.” Pepper said in a tone flirting with sarcasm. She looked to Tony again, Stephen nudged him when he didn’t move, and that seemed to break whatever trance he was in.

“And she wrote a story as well.” Tony said, grinning.

“It was very impressive.” Pepper agreed.

“That was good.”

“It was very well done.”

“Thank you.” Christine smiled at Tony and Pepper who easily bounced off of each others comments.

“Well. I’m going to go wash.” Pepper said, quickly escaping the situation. Tony scowled after her, but Justin was quick to continue their conversation.

“Hey, buddy. How you doing?” Justin asked Tony, who looked quite ready to die.

“I’m all right.” Tony answered.

“Looking gorgeous.” Justin commented, which- Stephen found odd. He raised an eyebrow at the blond man who was looking Tony up and down with little regard for how stupid he looked doing so. 

Stephen looked over at Tony as well- who was wearing a light grey-blue suit with an even lighter blue dress shirt beneath it. His hair was wild, not tamed at all which was oddly fitting for the billionaire. His beard was trimmed into its usual gaudy style, and all in all, Stephen couldn’t find a different word to describe him other than gorgeous.

He sighed at his own mind, shaking his head in a sorry attempt to rid his thoughts. Although all that did was draw in attention he didn’t want.

“You too Stephie- I can’t believe you’re here. You didn’t tell me you knew Tony Stark!” The man said, clapping Stephen on the shoulder.

“It slipped my mind.” Stephen answered, although that was a lie- he hadn’t known Tony Stark at the time. But Justin didn’t need to know that. Besides, Stephen enjoyed watching him squirm.

“Please, it’s tough to look this good.” Tony cut in, smiling.

“Can I ask you.” Christine cut in- Stephen had almost forgotten she was there. “Is this the first time-” She was cut off as a camera came by, Tony instantly slipped on his sunglasses as Justin pulled him to his side, Stephen’s arm slipping out of Tony’s as they took a photo even when Tony tried to escape.

“-that you guys have seen each other?” Christine finished and Tony stepped away from Justin, brushing off his arm.

“God, that’s so awful.” Tony mumbled, rejoining Stephen but not looping their arms again.

“Listen, is it the first time you’ve seen each other since the Senate?” She asked again.

“Since he got his contract revoked…” Tony said, a corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Actually, it’s on hold.” Justin clarified quickly.

“...when you were attempting to.. That’s not what I heard. What’s the difference between “hold” and “cancelled”? The truth?” Tony asked.

“Yes, what is it?” Christine asked as well. Backing Justin into a corner.

“No. The truth is… Why don’t we put that away?” Justin asked, pointing at the recorder. “The truth is, I’m actually hoping to present something at your Expo.” Justin said with a smile and Tony flashed one as well.

“Well, if you invent something that works, I’ll make sure I get you a slot.” Tony said just as Natalie came up to them.

“Mr. Stark?” She asked, drawing his attention almost instantaneously.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Your corner table is ready.” She said and Tony looked beyond relieved to have an out.

“I actually have a slot this year. Yes, I do.” Justin said, trying desperately to keep Tony from leaving.

“Hammer needs a slot, Christine.” Tony said.

“We kid, yeah. We kid. We’re kidders.” Justin laughed, addressing Christine and not noticing Tony slipping away, dragging Stephen with him. They went to their table and Tony pushed Stephen down into a chair, leaning down close to his ear which had Stephen sitting frozen in his seat.

“I’ll be right back.” He said into Stephens ear, “Pepper will join you soon. Just- Avoid Hammer. He’s bad news.” And with that he was gone. Stephen didn’t even get the chance to respond. Instead he just watched Tony slip away into the small crowd- disappearing from sight entirely.

A deep sigh filled his lungs as he leaned back in his chair- uncomfortable and uncertain. What was he doing here? So far, nothing. Each moment that passed had Stephen regretting his choice to humor Tony Stark at all- he should have refused his offer.

Stephen didn’t even want his charity in the first place.

And yet- something about the way Tony had been acting had intrigued him. Painfully so. Sure, Tony had changed after Afghanistan, but he was still the same, stupidly playful man from before.

But when he talked to Stephen that day? He seemed, nervous, worried. Maybe even a little afraid. Not to the naked eye, but to someone who was familiar with the signs, Stephen could spot it.

Stephen had already helped Tony twice, both times he hadn’t wanted to admit to himself that he was, if only slightly, concerned.

That’s why he was here.

He was concerned. He hated that.

“I’m afraid we haven’t been properly introduced.” Someone sitting across from Stephen pulled him from his inner thoughts. He looked up to see Pepper Potts sitting there with a calm smile, drink in hand- probably her second one based on how she had been drinking earlier at the bar.

She seemed just as bothered as he was, which was a relief and an alarm all at once.

“I suppose not.” Stephen said, sitting up in his chair and offered his hand to shake, she reached across in turn- giving a firm yet relaxed shake. “I’m Stephen Melrose.” He introduced.

“Pepper Potts- it’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.”

Silence.

Stephen shifted in his seat, hands resting on the arms of his chair- fingers drumming nervously. The room was loud yet Stephen could easily pick out the individual conversations. Especially Justin Hammer- his voice was loud and unmistakable. He was still talking about how he and Tony were just the best of friends and Stephen could only just hold back his laugh.

“I’m sorry- did you want a drink?” Pepper suddenly spoke up again, Stephen took a moment to understand her question before shaking his head, offering the best smile he could.

“No, thank you.” He said, eyes lingering on the glass in her hand- filled with some type of white wine no doubt.

He hadn’t had a drink in at least eight years, best not to break that streak because of a single awkward situation.

His mouth watered.

“Are you sure?” Pepper asked, “I could-”

“It’s okay.” Stephen said, “I don’t drink.”

“Okay.” Pepper laughed, clearly uncomfortable. God why was he so awful at conversation. This was the perfect opportunity to ask about what the fuck he was doing here-

“So.” Stephen said, clearing his throat and offering his best smile. “I guess- I should congratulate you. New CEO of Stark Industries?” Stephen tried not to cringe at his own fake tone.

Pepper took a drink.

“Well.” She laughed, although he could see the way her eyes widened as she considered where to begin. “Thank you! It was actually sort of random, I honestly am still in mild disbelief but it wasn’t like I already basically ran S.I. Tony is like a child sometimes. Although I suppose I shouldn’t be saying that to his guest…” She trailed off, and suddenly Stephen was even more uncomfortable than before.

“It’s fine. I’ve noticed.” Stephen offered. Watching as the tension in Pepper’s shoulders slowly dissipated. 

“Pardon me for asking, Mr. Melrose, but-”

“Stephen is fine.” Stephen corrected.

“Stephen.” Pepper smiled. “How is it the two of you met?” She asked, and Stephen couldn’t say he was surprised by the question.

“It’s a long story.” Stephen offered, but at her look new he’d have to at least give her something, the question was- should he be serious or what? Social situations were never his forte. “We met through mutual friends when I was visiting New York back in 2001.” Stephen answered and Pepper hummed.

“That long ago? I’m surprised we haven’t met before this.” Pepper smiled and Stephen returned it.

“For a genius he has many flaws.” Stephen said and Pepper snorted into her drink.

“True. He can be quite stupid at times. And then he went and hired Natalie Rushman of all people- even after I told him not to. I swear he never listens.” Pepper mumbled into her drink and Stephen felt his lips twitch- threatening to smile.

Was she _jealous?_

Stephen snorted, of course she was. He had basically just set foot into a giant soap opera. He could feel this turning into an absolute disaster quite quickly.

“Plus the way he was talking to her with you right there. I’ve never been more disappointed.” She sighed and Stephen’s brow wrinkled in mild confusion before it dawned on him what she meant.

Oh-

“I think there’s been a mis-”

“Oh my god.”

“What?” Stephen asked, turning to see what Pepper was looking at and suddenly understood.

“Oh.”

 _“Well what’s the use of having and owning a race car if you don’t drive it?_ ” Tony asked the news reporter as he pulled on a pair of dark blue and black gloves He was already dressed in a suit with Stark written across his chest in bold, white letters that stuck out against the dark blue color of his suit.

“Natalie. Natalie!” Pepper was already shouting, the woman scurried up to their table almost instantly .

“Yes, Ms. Potts?”

“What do you know about this?” Pepper asked, pointing at the TV. Stephen didn’t get her reaction- he was too busy staring at Tony Stark in a tracksuit.

“This is the first that I have known of it.” Natalie responded.

“This, this cannot happen.”

“Absolutely. I understand. How can I help you?” She asked.

“Where’s Happy?”

“He’s waiting outside.”

“Okay, get him. I need Happy.”

“Right away.”

If Stephen didn’t feel useless before he really did now- although it surprisingly didn’t last long. Pepper was on her feet and grabbing his arm, dragging him with her out the door. Why? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure what he could do in this situation.

They were outside for only a few minutes when the crowd below them shifted from excited to something a little more panicked. Pepper was typing on her phone, waiting for Happy. Stephen slipped away from her side and towards the stands of the track. He had to walk down a small flight of steps until he actually got to the top of the stand and was able to see what people were freaking out about.

There was a man walking on the track.

Normally that was enough to freak people out but the fact that this man was trying to be some sort of cyborg version of Indian Jones made it twenty times more alarming.

Stephen isn’t quite sure what he’s witnessing in complete honesty. It’s like some badly written superhero comic- the way Tony’s car is actually sliced through by an electric whip.

It was actually a shame- considering Tony had been in first.

The moment Stephen realized that Tony could actually be dead, he finally moved. The initial shock and surprise of the man walking out onto the track long faded as he watched Tony’s blue car skid to a stop several yards away from the attacker, other cars sped by- but even more were crashing.

Stephen pushed through the crowd of people. Some were rushing to leave, others simply stuck in place watching.

Then there were the assholes with their phone cameras out.

Through the crowd Stephen couldn’t see much. Nor could he hear much aside from the screeching of tires and screams of worried people.

Stephen was sure he knocked a few people down as he pushed his way towards the track, climbing over some of the barriers that separate the more expensive seats. He reached the very front of the stands just in time to see Tony hit the man in the back of the head with a small part of his broken car- the resulting effect was honestly none.

Looking down, Stephen knew he was probably a little insane, but forced himself to climb over the railing. The stands were raised, the ground was a good ten foot drop away, but he could climb down on the bars. Which, he surprisingly did with only a minor amount of swearing.

Once on the ground Stephen ran along the side of the fence until he was only a few feet away.Tony barely slipping away from being hit, scrambling to his feet only to be knocked forward onto the remains of another totaled car. 

“Tony!” Stephen shouted at him, watching him fall to the ground yet again. Stephens hands gripped the fence as a surge of panic coursed through him. He watched the man approach, watched him swing just as Tony got to his feet and jumped over the car which was now up in flames, Stephen jumped backwards a bit from the heat.

“Jesus fucking christ Stephanie, get me out of here.” He heard Tony before he saw him. The man was right at the fence a few feet away, Stephen quickly went to him.

“Climb the fucking fence.”

“I can’t!”

“Just get on the barrier-!” Tony scrambled up onto the metal guard rail, fingers gripping the metal fence but he was still a good foot away from reaching the top.

“It’s too high.”

“Then jump!”

“I can’t!”

“Why are you so fucking short?!”

“I’m being attacked!” Tony began screaming- voice resembling a child at that very moment. Stephen was trying to find a way for him to get over, aware that the attacker was getting close once again- 

“Look out!-” Stephen shouted at Tony who barely moved just enough to the side to avoid being hit by the electric whip- which actually cut through the fence entirely.

If Stephen hadn’t been scared before, he was now.

Tony scrambled towards the damaged fence and jumped up on the barrier at the same time a familiar, dark blue Rolls Royce Phantom came from around the track, heading straight towards them and- dangerously fast.

It ran into the fence just as Tony jumped over the barrier and right into Stephen, pinning the man between it and the car. Stephen could now see Happy behind the wheel- and Pepper in the back seat, looking close to passing out.

There was a brief moment where Tony looked utterly betrayed. He looked at Stephen, eyes wide. Stephen could only stare up at the man who was currently clinging to him like a koala.

Not that he was ever really sure of what he was doing.

After a beat of silence, Tony dropped down from Stephen and climbed back through the hole in the fence, going to the drivers window.

“Were you aiming for him or me?!”

“I was trying to scare him.” Happy responded.

“‘Cause I can’t tell!”

*** 

“Better. Security.” Tony said through clenched teeth. Stephen, Pepper, Natalie and Happy all standing behind where he sat across from the head of security. The man looked wilted and ready to cry. The moment Tony had stepped off the race track- Iron Man suit falling off in pieces- he’d been fuming.

Even Stephen was minorly intimidated.

“I can’t begin to say how sorry I am, Mr. Stark-”

“Oh you’re going to be.” Tony said, standing up from the table and staggering slightly- he was definitely beaten and Stephen was positive Tony wouldn’t admit to it. He’d have to force him to sit down and-

Stephen sighed.

He was beginning to sound like- well, he wasn’t quite sure.

“You realize that my guest did more for me than anyone on your fucking staff?” Tony asked, throwing an arm back to gesture to Stephen, who clasped his hands behind his back- wishing he could disappear when several pairs of eyes went to him.

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t! I don’t want excuses, just fix it! I was attacked!” Tony shouted- although he had just been repeating the same thing over and over again at this point. Luckily- that seemed to be the end of it. Tony rounded on the four of them- and Stephen swore they collectively flinched as he pushed his way through, heading for the door.

Stephen followed along with the other three. They resembled a group of ducklings following their mother.  
  
Stephen zoned out, trailing behind the rest of them. He wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. The only thing he could really consider was- why him?

The weirdest shit always happens to him and he couldn’t explain it. Since his birth, which happened on an actual ranch, which his mother never let go- even to this day. Then naturally his father- and his drug addiction and now…

This? Superheroes?

He was only flirting with thirty and he already felt old.

With the original car they had driven being demolished, they were forced to rent a different car- which Tony was complaining about almost endlessly. He didn’t let Happy drive even when the man insisted, and they ended up spending the entire trip to the hotel Tony booked listening to him complain.

No one dared say anything- even when they arrived. They just got out silently even as Tony continued to bitch and-

Stephen was annoyed.  
  
“My first vacation in years and this is how it goes!” Tony snapped and Stephen let out a deep sigh before finally climbing out of the car and approaching Tony.

“Tony-”

“What?!” Tony turned on him- although the anger quickly dissipated when Stephen gave him an unimpressed stare.

“I know you’re upset, but-”

“Upset? No Stephen. I’m not upset. I’m furious. The whole point of this trip was to be relaxing- enjoyable. Not to deal with even more shit.” The man swore at him, although Stephen had to admit he was impressed by the lack of shouting.

“We can still-”

“And then there’s you!”

“What-?” Stephen asked, eyebrows climbing.

“How could you do that? What if you had gotten hurt!” Tony asked, voice raising in volume yet again. Pepper, Happy and Natalie had long since disappeared inside.

“I was just-”

“Just nothing! If you had gotten hurt that would have been on me- how could you throw yourself in there? There’s nothing even special about you!”

Rationally, Stephen knew what he meant by that. 

But that didn’t keep the familiar feeling of hurt from bubbling up inside his chest. Pressing his lips together, Stephen shook his head and to keep himself from saying anything else- laughed. Tony was looking at him with wide eyes, not moving even as Stephen turned away and left him standing there alone.

  
***

_Stephen woke up to the sound of his bedroom door creaking open. The hinges had always been bad- and while Stephen used to hate that terrible sound, now he loathed it. It was usually a sign that something terrible was about to happen to him. Of course it depended on who was walking through the door._

_It was usually his father, which is why he squeezed his eyes shut. Flinching as his bed dipped down and a hand fell onto his shoulder._

_“Oh, my darling. So sorry to wake you.” The soft voice of his mother reached his ears and soothed away his worries almost instantly. Stephen rolled over, rubbing his eyes as he looked to his mother, who was fully dressed._

_“What time is it?” He asked, glancing out the window- the sun had yet to rise, but there was a hint of light beginning to appear in the sky._

_“It’s very early.” His mother cooed, running her fingers through his hair._

_“Are we going now? Shall I pack my bag?” Stephen asked, lips tugging into the first smile, genuine smile for a long time._

_“Oh, my darling.” Beverly’s voice grew even softer, making him feel a bubble of dread. “I have to go without you.”_

_“You can’t.” Stephen said, sitting up further._

_“Darling, please understand.” She said, voice taking on a desperate tone that Stephen was very familiar with. It’s not like he wasn’t used to his mother breaking her promises, but this hurt- ridiculously so._

_“I want to come.” Stephen said, the smile he once had slipping away._

_“You have to stay here with your father just for a short while.”_

_“I want to come.” Stephen begged._

_“And then when i’ve spoken to the lawyers-”_

_“No, please.”_

_“Vincent. Listen to me. This is very important-” She said, guiding Stephen to lay back down. “I’ve got to do this properly. Yes? In exactly the right way. And then I can come back and get you. Then we can be together. All three of us. I need you to stay here with Donna- keep an eye on her.”_

_Stephen didn’t respond. He simply stared up at his mother, the darkness of the room seemed to consume him- his throat ached, and his chest was tight._

_“Vincent.” Stephen’s mom said softly. “Do you understand?”_

_“No.” Stephen said, “I don’t.”_

***

Smoking was the one thing Stephen could never give up.

He had already given up the only thing he thought kept him grounded, and it took incredible strength-

At least that’s what everyone around him said. But he wasn’t strong at all. If he was, he’d have never taken drugs to begin with. He would have stood up for himself sooner- if at all.

He would have quit smoking.

He’d have told his father-

What would he have told him?

“Nobody should...do that…” Stephen mumbled under his breath as he exhaled a lungful of smoke, the feeling soothing- more than it should have been.

He wasn’t sure where he was. By the time he had stopped walking, it was dark and he was utterly lost in the streets of Monaco. Now he was perched in an old, empty park, swaying slightly in a rusty swing that creaked anytime he moved.

Taking another long drag, Stephen dropped the stub onto the ground and crushed it with his cheap brand of shoes- he did his best not to look at them as he did. Nothing about him was expensive- the jacket on his shoulders felt heavy and he knew he didn’t deserve to be wearing it. It was probably worth more than anything he currently owned.

He had contemplated purchasing a bottle of Scotch- a bottle of Cutty Sark. Disgustingly cheap but it’d still be strong enough to send him into a blurry haze- dull the senses. Nothing like Heroin, the very thought Smack making his head spin with desire….

_“You’re slipping.”_

“I know.” Stephen muttered. Dragging a hand down his face, he sighed deeply and hung his head.

_“He’s right though, Stephen. You’re not special.”_

“I know….”

Stephen let his eyes fall shut, preferring the sight of darkness over his own helplessness. He hated how upset he was, the feeling hurt more than it ever had before and he knew it was because this was the first time he’d experienced it sober or in a semi-stable mindset.

It was probably a good thing he hadn’t stayed to talk to that therapist- saved the man the trouble of having to listen to a man who had surely lost his mind years ago.

Forcing his mind to quiet down, Stephen filled the silence himself. Humming a familiar tune that he couldn’t quite remember the name of- one he often heard his mother singing. Perhaps the one good memory he had of her was he singing- and how she would sing to him when he was young. Before her spirit was broken- before she stopped loving him.

He wished he could remember the name, or even one word of it.

It had been her favorite- and in a way, it was about him. That he was sure of.

The growing sound of heavy footfalls alerted Stephen that someone was approaching- although he figured he didn’t really need to look up to know who it was. The sound of the swing beside him being occupied only solidified his suspicions and a small part of him wanted to leave. But he couldn’t seem to find the energy.

“Should I bother asking how you found me?” Stephen asked, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Probably not. I’m sure you’d feel violated.” Tony answered, the sound of the swing creaking was enough to draw Stephen out of the darkness to spare a glance at the man who was ever so slightly swinging beside him.

“Ah.” Stephen snorted. “Like I’m not used to that.”

“I mean-”

“Don’t.” Stephen sighed again, drawing it out as long as he could so he didn’t have to speak.

“Can I at least-”

“No.”

Beside him, Tony huffed a sigh as well- loud and clearly full of annoyance. Stephen had to refrain from snapping at him. The level of patience he had was slim to none at the moment. He was apparently incapable of having a good time- example? Basically every day.

“You don’t have to say anything. In fact- I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have done what I did because- as you so nicely put it. I’m not anything special.” Stephen said all at once- the taste of those words was bitter and unpleasant. But they needed to be said.

“I’m surprised I even did anything. My track record of doing anything even close to the word brave has been- non-existent since birth.” He said, looking down at his hands which were steady for once.

“I suppose I just…. Didn’t want my friend to get hurt.”

Silence was all that followed. The only sound was that of Tony swinging slightly back and forth on his swing. Sometimes the wind would rustle the leaves of the nearby trees- but otherwise. The only sound Stephen could hear was his own heartbeat. It was pounding in his head- making it ache.

It must have been minutes before Tony finally said anything, and as always- he did nothing but surprise Stephen.

“What were you humming? You sort of do that a lot.”

Stephen’s brow furrowed at the question. He glanced over at Tony again, but the man wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were trained on the rest of the park- and Stephen couldn’t imagine what was so interesting about it.

“A song my mother sang- I can’t recall the name.” Stephen answered wearily. 

“Like a lullaby?” Tony asked, finally looking at Stephen.

“I- guess?” Stephen answered, shrugging one shoulder. “...She usually only sang when she was nervous. Which was often. She told me once that it made her think of me. Because of my-...” Stephen trailed off. Trying to recall the fuzzy memory that was tickling the back of his mind. “My eyes…”

“Huh.” Stephen heard Tony hum thoughtfully. “My mom always sang the sunshine song- although I think most parents do.”

“Which I fail to understand.” Stephen snorted.

“What- why?”

“It’s a depressing song.”

“How is it depressing?”

“Have you heard the whole thing?” Stephen asked, looking at Tony who was looking scandalized.

“Duh- it’s only got one verse.” Tony said.

“One? It has four verses plus the chorus.” Stephen said, barely containing the rest of the random facts he knew about it.

“Four verses?” Tony asked, eyes wide. “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me.” Stephen scoffed. “It’s a sad song, not something a parent should sing to their child.”

“Prove it then.” Tony said, and Stephen leveled him with a blank stare.

“You have a phone, look it up yourself.”

“You have a voice.” Tony quipped, gesturing for Stephen to go ahead.

“I’m not singing for you.” Stephen said, shaking his head and looking back out at the rest of the park- fighting off a shiver at a particularly aggressive gust of wind.

“What? But now I’m curious! You have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything.” Stephen scoffed.

“Fine, but I’ll get you to do it sometime. Until then- it’s a happy song and only one verse long.” Tony said, voice firm and unwavering. Stephen watched as he crossed his arms over his chest and kept his eyes off of Stephen- resembling a pouting child.

“You’re ridiculous.” Stephen said under his breath, but got nothing in response.

They once again lapsed into silence, and Stephen could feel the song Tony had mentioned slowly seep into his head- he knew it’d be stuck in his head for quite some time now and it’d bug him to no end. Not that it was a bad song-

Just, sad.

“You know.” Tony said, breaking the silence again. “Whenever I look for someone named Stephen Melrose- I can’t seem to find shit.”

“Really?” Stephen asked, unsurprised by the fact that Tony had tried searching for him nor that he’d come up empty.

“Yeah.” Tony said. “It’s annoying.”

“Good.” Stephen said, lips twitching into a slight smile. “Some people would be offended by your snooping.”

“Are you?”

“Not really.” Stephen sighed, straightening his shoulders. “Although if you had asked I might have told you.”

“I’m asking now.”

“Interesting.” Stephen answered and Tony groaned. “Legally, my name isn’t Stephen.” Stephen explained when Tony settled down. He threw a glance at him and could see a clear interest. “I prefer Stephen though. My sister came up with it.”

“Donna?” Tony asked and Stephen nodded, hear throbbing at the sound of her name.

“She thought-” Stephen started, surprised at the sound of his own voice- strained. “-it was fine to make up her own name for me since my own parents both called me something different.”

“That must’ve been confusing.” Tony said, probably unsure of how to actually respond. The idea itself was strange, Stephen wasn’t sure how he’d respond to someone telling him anything about a childhood like his.

“Well.” Stephen pondered- was it really all that bad? “It wasn’t terrible. I think it helped me. I had a way to feel like I was someone else- I could pretend I was meant to be somewhere else.” He explained lightly, recalling the days he would run through the yard- pretending to be on the run.

That was when Donna came up with the name. Stephen was twelve at the time, Donna was seven. The two of them spent hours outside- anywhere away from the Mansion just to avoid any unnecessary run ins with Eugene.

“Stephen.” Tony said his name softly, but with enough concern that Stephen was forced away from his fond memory.

“What?” He asked, looking away. He could still feel the other man's dark gaze on him- burning.

“What happened to you?”

“Do you need to know?” Stephen asked, hands adjusting their grip on the chain.

“I guess not.” Tony said, Stephen could see him shrug out of the corner of his eye. “But I’d like to. But I’d rather you tell me because you want to, not because you feel forced to.”

“I’ll never want to.” Stephen said quietly, letting out a deep sigh- enjoying the sight of his own breath creating a soft puff of steam.

“Then-” Tony began, but Stephen shook his head, silencing him.

“Just because I don’t want to, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to know.” Stephen said quietly, and Tony, thankfully, didn’t respond. So with a deep breath, Stephen forced himself to at least tell one story. If he could get one thing out, maybe he’d be inclined to tell more. Or this’ll prove that psychiatrists are full of bullshit. Either way it’s a win-win scenario. 

And Tony, surprisingly, listened without interruption. The times Stephen would look up from the ground to see if the brunette was still listening showed that Tony was. His lips pressed into an impassive line, eyes betraying nothing as Stephen told him about the greatest regret of his life.

***

_“Steph, are you paying attention?” Donna called from the edge of the lake, feet in the water that was surely much too cold for swimming. But the young girl had insisted. And Stephen would do anything for her._

_Stephen was seventeen years old, Donna eleven, the two of them had been doing their best to avoid Eugene for the day and Donna’s idea had been the lake a few miles from the estate- they’d only need to be with their father for one last day before returning to their mother’s care. She had bought a place in London, miles away from their French Estate._

_“Of course.” Stephen said, voice dry as he flipped through a worn down copy of Casanova. Not bothering to look up at his sister._

_“Stephen!” Donna called again and Stephen sighed, looking up from his book to his sister who smiled at his attention. “Aren’t you coming?”_

_“No.” Stephen snorted, snapping his book shut and laying down on his back in the damp grass, he could hear the scoff of indignation from his sister, which drew a smile to his lips._

_“You’re boring.” She called back at him and Stephen could hear the distinct sound of splashing as she most likely wandered further into the water. He let his eyes slide shut and took a deep breath. Every muscle in his body seemed to relax, as he knew out here with his sister he was safe, as was she._

_Stephen must have fallen asleep, as it was rare he got a full nights sleep under the same roof as Eugene Melrose. At his age nothing ever really happened, but years of fear had built up a sense of paranoia that left him with crippling insomnia._

_In the darkness is where humans are most exposed._

_When Stephen next opened his eyes, it was due to the lack of sound. The once soothing splashes in the water signaling that his sister was nearby faded with a short cry that Stephen thought he imagined. He sat up, looking around with blurry eyes into the darkness. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, leaving him with only a small amount of light to see._

_“Donna?” Stephen called, pushing himself to his feet. His heart began to race at the lack of response. Stephen spun around, eyes scanning the area until the idea looming in his mind became the only real option._

_Tears threatened his eyes as he threw caution to the wind and plunged into the water which was the color of ink. He could see nothing but darkness beneath the surface. But somehow he knew exactly where to look. It was as if the gods above were laughing at him, allowing him to quickly discover that he’d let the unthinkable happen simply because he was tired._

_Donna Melrose drowned because Stephen was weak._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs mentioned
> 
> Love Of My Life - Queen  
> The Wind - Cat Stevens  
> Oh Very Young - Cat Stevens  
> You Are My Sunshine - Pine Ridge Boys  
> Vincent - Don McLean


End file.
